


Dayenu

by triwizard_tardis



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Before Care, But I'll be nice and stop, Dark Andrew Underhill, Deepthroating, Explicit and Implicit Sexual Content, He does very well for himself he just doesn't like spending money, I am even less kind to Andrew Underhill, I am not kind to Alec Lightwood, I'm surprised that's not a tag, Idiots in Love, Incognito Rich Alec Lightwood, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Mundane Alec Lightwood, Mundane Magnus Bane, Mundane Magnus Bane/Mundane Alec Lightwood, Non Sexual Penetration, Overstimulation, Pimp Andrew Underhill, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prostitute Alec Lightwood, Prostitution, Protective Magnus Bane, Rich Magnus Bane, Safe Sane and Consensual, Slut Alec Lightwood, Strangers to Lovers, Switch Alec Lightwood, Switch Magnus Bane, Throat Fucking, Way less than I'm making it seem, Whore Alec Lightwood, i could add more, okay i'll stop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triwizard_tardis/pseuds/triwizard_tardis
Summary: If Alec's life could have stayed just the way it was, it would have been enough.Alec Lightwood is 19 years old when his first boyfriend tosses him into a career in sex work. Now he's met someone who wants to drag him out of it kicking and screaming if necessary. Too bad for Alec, he's falling in love with the guy.
Relationships: Alec Lightwood/Andrew Underhill, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 99
Kudos: 292





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for what I did to Andrew Underhill. I needed someone trustworthy to web Alec into this mess, and he definitely drew the short straw.

It started simply. A peck on the cheek, shy and flirty, like Andrew Underhill was just as nervous about things as Alec was. He was sweet for the first few months: engaging in Alec's hobbies and interests, meeting and befriending Jace and Izzy, making Alec feel as though he was wanted, understood: desired.

Alec was 19 years old when he presented Andrew with his virginity. Sucking and kissing desperately after his boyfriend, begging for his sparkling green eyes, and perfect marble teeth that nipped and sucked at him in all the right ways. And Andrew said no. He didn't want Alec to rush things.

The thing about Andrew Underhill was that he wasn't a _romantic_. He detested traditions like Christmas and Valentine's Day citing them to be no more than "manipulative, hetero-normative institutions that perpetuated harmful, narrow ideals about the human form and the way people should love!" He believed in free love and the power of breaking the mold. About everything else, he abhorred "societal convention". But about Alec's virginity, he was adamant in his belief that that was sacred. Alec shouldn't be so eager to throw it away. They wouldn't do anything until Alec was really, truly ready. Until Alec was sure.

So like Tantalus, he stretched for Andrew's forbidden fruit, just beyond his reach. Hanging so painfully low.

Years later Alec would see that trap for what it was. But at the time, when Andrew finally touched him where he longed to be touched, kissed him as he'd dreamed to be kissed... When Andrew Underhill spent the whole night taking Alec apart, all Alec knew was bliss.

The bliss could have – _would_ have – been endless. But Andrew believed in free love. Once Alec had given away is virginity, he didn't need to be selfish anymore. He didn't need to be a prude anymore. He'd given his virginity freely, so what use was there to adhering to straight constructs like monogamy. Alec would have been happy to stay with Andrew, but when Andrew invited Lorenzo Ray to spend the night with them – with _Alec_ – well, he didn't hate it. Some of it even felt good at times. And it made Andrew so happy.

Alec might have been able to be happy if things had stayed that way: Alec and Andrew and Lorenzo. Lorenzo wasn't Alec's favorite person in the world. A bit stuck up, judgemental, exploitative at times. He liked to watch Alec beg. Then again, tied to a headboard, dissected until every inch of him screamed, Alec didn't mind begging. But it didn't stop with Lorenzo. Next came Raj. Then Victor. Then Trevor and Jonathan and an endless stream of Andrew's "friends."

Andrew started buying him gifts. Big gifts, like expensive watches, a new laptop, his books for the semester. One day, Alec asked about the money. He'd caught Victor paying Andrew as he left.

A pit formed at the base of his stomach and a rock lodged itself in his throat. He should have known. All this blinding nonsense about "free love" and "breaking the mold" when Andrew had roped him in to the oldest profession in history.

He'd end it right then and there. Andrew had been furious when Alec threatened to leave.

"We'll lose all the money we've been working so hard for!"

"You mean _you'll_ lose all the money _I've_ been working so hard for! Because that's what this is, isn't it!? I've been working for you! I haven't seen a sent of this money, but you've been whoring me out for _months_!"

"No! Alec, Baby, I love you!"

"No! Andrew. We're done."

He was done.

Except he wasn't.

Just before Lorenzo – just before Alec's first bite of Andrew's low-hanging, forbidden fruit, Alec brought Andrew home. Christmas and Valentine's day were commercial, but Andrew loved Thanksgiving, and Alec convinced him to come home and meet his family right. Izzy and Jace stood by him. But Robert threatened to stop paying tuition if Alec didn't quit this deviant behavior.

Alec and Andrew had left after that, but Alec to this day doesn't know how his father found out that they didn't end things that night. Then, Alec found himself four months later, in the middle of his fourth semester at NYU, without financial support, and without an income.

He wouldn't return to Andrew. But that didn't mean he wasn't willing to strike out on his own. Afterall, what else was he good at?

* * *

The first stranger with whom Alec ever slept off the street fucked him raw. He'd have bruises of his biceps and his coccyx for a month. But he'd made nearly two grand. If he could make that twelve times over, he'd have tuition for the semester. He wouldn't have room and board, a meal plan, or books, but the college offered better financial aid for those things, and he'd have tuition.

By then end of April that year Alec had three student loans, two scholarships, a place to crash in Jace and Simon's dorm, rapidly slipping grades, one semester's tuition, and an itch.

By the end of that summer, Alec had dropped out of school.

* * *

Alec hadn't spent long on the streets. Freaked out after his revelation with Underhill, Alec got himself checked for STIs. Relieved he'd dodged the biggest bullet of his life, he invested in protections, and went to a free clinic regularly. He started to lay out ground rules. No obvious bruising; no spending the night; pay cash, upfront, by the hour; no condom: no sex.

He found himself a tiny apartment in Inwood, Manhatten. The walls leaked; there was no privacy; he could barely fit a loveseat into the 400 square foot space. He stole a matress from a half copacity dorm on campus and left it on the floor. Alec lived a Spartan existence in Inwood, but he didn't work there. He spent the money he saved from his apartment paying back his student loans as quickly as he could. He invested in a cheap gym membership to keep himself appealing.

He thrifted loose jeans and a belt, ripping them up with an old pocket knife. He wore them low on his hips, commando, and usually forewent a shirt. He always worked to smell much cleaner than he looked. He stationed himself in the nicer districts around the city, and restricted himself to young blood. He steered hard clear of the veterans and their loyal clientele, and kept as low a profile as he could to avoid pimps. Slowly, but steadily he built himself a reputation. Honest, for a whore. Quiet: discreet. Adaptive. Fair. Immensely talented.

By the time of Izzy and Jace's graduation, Alec had paid off the last of his student loans. When Izzy started law school, and Jace joined the Air Force, Alexander "Gideon" Lightwood had become one of the most sought after, freelance escorts in New York City.


	2. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec meets Magnus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they fall in love instantly. Let me stop.

Alec panted against the man's neck, rutting his clothed cock against the Brioni slacks at the other man's hip. He'd paid Alec for three hours and told him to be desperate. They'd reset the scene four times now.

"No. Stop," the man sighed, and Alec stepped back again. "Are you sure you're the great "Gideon" everyone's been raving about?"

The man, with his glittery cheeks and painted fingernails, flopped back on his chaise and looked at him with such sour disappointment. Alec chuckled to himself.

"The thing about pedistals: they make poor places of actual dwelling."

"No, no. I know that, but what's so hard about acting desperate?"

Alec rolled his eyes.

"I don't know what you're looking for, Pal, but it's not desperation. I've desperately tried everything short of destroying your $45,000 suit."

The man blinked, wide-eyed.

"You know high fashion."

"It's not my first night out, sweetheart," Alec scoffed, and the room fell silent for a moment. The man raked his eyes across Alec's bare torso.

"Try that."

Alec cocked his head.

"Try what?"

"Acting all indignant. Righteous."

Alec smirked bitterly, finally catching on to what the guy might want.

"What, 'cause you think you're better then me?" He laid his accent on a little thicker than usual, squaring his shoulders when the man shifted stiffly in his seat.

"Yes," he said, clearing his throat. "Yes, I am better than you. You've been crawling around here begging for scraps all afternoon. Your acid wash, Gap jeans, no shirt like a damn hooligan. You haven't an ounce of poise – of _dignity_ – to your name."

Alec stood abruptly, as did the man, and strode across the room.

"I'll have you know these are Levi's," he snapped. The glittery man scoffed, flipping his neon pink bangs from his face.

"Like that's really any better."

"You want dignity? Huh!?" Alec shouted, shoving the man back against his parlor wall, rattling some picture frames. It was a risky move. Alec had at least five inches on the guy, and if he felt genuinely attacked, Alec's reputation would look worse than the East River. Fortunately, the man's already deep brown eyes only grew darker, and if he tried to suppress his shudder, he didn't do very well. Alec bared his teeth, pressing into the man, and he groaned.

"Damn rich assholes," he growled, "livin' on top of the world. How about I fuck you into this wall, huh? Maybe that'll teach you some damn respect."

"Respect," the man squawked breathlessly, "I've invited you into my home, and paid you a king's ransome, and you're throwing me against walls and shooting your mouth off about respect! You're a cheap slut, and for the next two hours I own you! I owe you nothing! Least of all this undeserved _respect_!"

The man spat in Alec's face, and he scoffed. He shook his head, wiping his cheek slowly then flipped the man to press his face into the wall, pinning his wrists behind his back with one hand.

"You gonna treat me like that," he bit out, his words low and dangerous. "Your my slut now, Slut. We use the color system. Green means go; yellow means slow your roll; red means get the fuck off. Color," he demanded nipping at the guys ear.

"Green," he moaned. So this is what he wanted when he said to act desperate. He was looking for a fight. "And it's Magnus to you, Whore."

Alec rolled his hips into Magnus's relishing in the man's own desperate whimper.

"Don't act like you don't know my name, _Magnus_. I'm a lot of things, but cheap ain't one of 'em." He released Magnus's wrists and pinned his hips against the wall, deliberately rutting Magnus's clothed cock into it.

"Gideon," Magnus wailed, arching his back away from Alec. Alec froze for a moment.

"Color," he once again growled in Magnus's ear.

"Green! Christ!"

So Alec yanked back Magnus's blazer and the corner of his collar, popping the top three buttons from the fine silk shirt. He lapped a section of Magnus's shoulder, then bit down hard, sucking just gently enough that the mark wouldn't last more than a day. When he pulled back, he breathed into Magnus's ear before he could think of what he was saying, punctuating his words with two sharp thrusts.

"It's Alec."

Magnus gasped and quavered beneath Alec. Alec took a moment to let Magnus find his feet then stepped back, leaning against the couch, to survey his work. Magnus sagged into the wall, stumbling to turn and face Alec against his support. His face was cherry red, and the faint imprint of the embossed maroon wallpaper stained his cheek. His beautiful Brioni slacks had an even prettier stain at the crotch, but Magnus seemed too spent to care. Alec chuckled.

"So you didn't want desperation. You wanted hunger."

"My bad," Magnus panted heavily beneath sloppy, hooded lids. "I'll keep that in mind for later."

Alec shook his head.

"You look pretty spent. Sure you can make it to a later?"

"I still have you for another hour and a half," Magnus objected.

"Hour and forty-five minutes. Technically."

Magnus only smirked. "Even better."

"Tell you what," Alec said, pushing off the couch and moving to help Magnus off the wall, maybe even to the bedroom. "I'll give you to the end of the hour. If I've worn you out by then, I'll reimburse you for the last hour and be on my merry way."

Magnus, who seemed to reject every implication Alec ever made, was gearing up to comment when Alec laid him back on his bed and began to kiss him slowly. Magnus moaned, then hissed pulling away from Alec.

"Give me a minute."

Alec laughed.

"Take your time, big boy. You've still got forty-five minutes."

* * *

Magnus did last the rest of the hour, and the next one. Then he lasted the one after that. They started trying everything, from Alec fucking him roughly into the sheets all the way to a strange blindfolded dance wherein Magnus dismantled Alec into a wanton puddle of need and trust.

When Alec woke up the next morning, tangled in golden satin sheets, encaged in a mohagany four poster frame, he realized he'd broken every one of his rules. He scanned the deep, sun-soaked room blearily when his eyes landed upon a fucking gold-rimmed, laser cut, obsidian waste basket half filled with used condoms. God this guy was either really rich, or really stupid. So maybe they hadn't broken _all_ his rules. But it terrified Alec to realize he wouldn't mind it if they had. He could imagine the feel of Magnus sliding naturally into him. He could imagine doing the same for Magnus. He could imagine lips gliding over hips guiding one another to a fragile precipice: over and over and over again.

Suddenly, Alec was immensely grateful that he woke up alone. He scrambled out of bed, quickly locating his discarded pants: the belt still half tied up in the loops. He moaned as memories of the previous night flooded his senses. Magnus smirking against his neck, snarking about Alec not wearing underwear, and "how scandalous!" His bright, teasing grin as he ground his palm into Alec effectively silencing the incredulous laughter that intended to escape his lips.

He had to get out of there. Alec didn't do regulars. Regulars meant longer hours: more noticeable wages. Alec was infamous, but regulars would put him on the map in the very worst way. And Alec could already feel a dangerous draw to Magnus.

"Fuck!" He growled, kicking at the heap of Magnus's soiled clothes on the floor.

"Alec?"

No. No no no no...

"No no no no no."

Magnus peaked around the doorjamb to his bedroom, and Alec rounded on him, finger jutted toward his chest.

"Where did you hear that name!?" This couldn't be happening; this _wasn't_ happening.

"You gave it to me last night."

No! That wasn't real! That didn't happen!

"You do _not_ get to call me that!"

"But Gideon's such an old name. What's a young thing like you doing calling himself Gideon anyway?" Magnus raked his eyes slowly down Alec, and Alec glared past the shiver that ran down his spine.

" _No one_ gets to know my real name."

Magnus hummed and danced his gaze wistfully across his ceiling.

"What about _Alexander_?"

Alec whimpered to himself, desperately trying to ignore the ways his name felt falling so languidly from Magnus's tongue.

"What did I _just say_?"

"But I thought your name was Alec."

" _Magnus_!"

"See, that's no fair," Magnus pouted, "You get to know my real name. Besides... I want to see you again."

He said it so quietly that had Alec not known better he'd have thought Magnus sounded sad. And really, Alec didn't know any better. He knew so little about Magnus, for all he knew he _was_ disappointed. Damnit.

"Damnit!" He pushed past Magnus into the main room, trying to find his phone and keys, deliberately avoiding those stupid, big, brown eyes!

He found his things in a dish by the door like they belonged there, and damnit, no! They didn't belong there! _He_ didn't belong there! They spent one stupid night together! Alec would _not_ cry about it! Fuck!

Tucked under his phone Alec saw a wad of cash for five times the amount he'd initially charged Magnus. Shit, was it really 10 a.m.? This wasn't happening. He wheeled back around on Magnus again who was lounging against the doorframe to his kitchen watching him. Just watching.

"Fine. Fine! One more night! I'll give you the whole night if you want, and you can pick when, but that's it! I don't do regulars!"

"What kind of freelancer turns down a steady income?"

"A smart one."

"Alright. Then I want to see you tonight."

"Are you stupid?" Alec strode to Magnus until he was crowding his space. "I said this was your last chance. Don't blow it being impatient."

"I know, but I can't wait to see you again."

A strangled groan climbed from the back of Alec's throat.

"Stop! Okay, just stop!"

Magnus flinched. Alec sighed and took a step back.

"Whatever," he mumbled, stalking back to the door. He scooped up his phone, his keys, and half the wad of cash Magnus had left for him. To charge that much money for an accidental sleepover was obscene. He pocketed everything, and threw open the front door. "See ya tonight."

"Wear your best suit!" Magnus called after him. "I have plans for you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! And acid wash jeans.


	3. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does Alec have relationship issues? Yes. Yes he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For whatever reason I got real obsessed with brands and material wealth and status in this story. I'm sorry.

The nicest suit Alec owned was a $300 Emporio Armani. His father bought it for him during Alec's sophomore year of high school, so he could show off his future lawyer son in front of his business friends. Alec prayed to whatever higher being he could get his hands on that it still fit.

There really hadn't been a reason to pack an Armani suit going off to college, but after Underhill, Robert expected him to move whatever belongings he felt he owned out of his house. Whether or not Alec liked the implications of that declaration, he found he couldn't help but agree. He'd come to collect it among any other personal items he wanted to hold onto, including his bow and its quiver of arrows, over spring break. It was a good move too, because when Alec dropped out his parents sold or destroyed anything Alec had left behind.

The suit did _not_ fit. The buttons of the shirt strained across his chest; the sleeves stopped just short of his wrists, solidly constricting his movement; the legs of his pants stopped two inches too high above his ankles and his limp cock was already straining the crotch. He could imagine the sweet lust in Magnus's eyes when he noticed that.

All the better, Alec shrugged grabbing his phone, keys, and wallet. It wasn't like he'd be staying in it very long anyway.

* * *

Alec knocked on the door to Magnus's loft and leaned his elbow up against the doorframe. He smirked when Magnus took in the too small suit and gulped.

"Oh no," Magnus sighed.

"What's the matter," Alec smirked, "Don't like what you see?"

" _That's_ the nicest suit you own?"

"It's Armani!"

Magnus snorted.

"Sure."

Alec squawked.

"What's wrong with my suit?"

"Well, it's about three sizes too small to start!"

"To start!" Alec threw his head back, then crowded Magnus against the wall just inside the doorway. "Guess you'll have to take it off me," he purred into Magnus's neck. Magnus whined, squirming against Alec.

"Yellow, Baby."

Alec pulled back trying not to look concerned.

"What's wrong?"

Magnus ran an appraising eye down Alec.

"Nothing," he muttered. He offered Alec a wax smile and maneuvered to the door. He looked back one more time at Alec: eyes sharp and lips tight like he still had something to say. Instead he grabbed his keys from the dish by the door and opened it.

"Where are you going?"

"I told you: I have plans for you. Come along."

* * *

Why on earth Magnus had decided to leave his perfectly comfortable apartment to drag Alec all the way across town to a four star restaurant eluded Alec completely. He'd never explicitly stated an aversion to public sex or exhibitionism. When Magnus held open the door and gestured Alec inside, he figured they'd have to set some ground rules.

The ceiling of the restaurant was comprised of high vaulted, four way, marble arches and spotless matching marble floors. Every sharp heel or clipped word should have echoed through the space. But somehow the music was soft; the conversation was gentle; the footsteps were deafeningly silent.

Every aspect of the open space had been deliberately designed to make its patrons feel superior and at ease. The serving staff in their crisp, non-discript uniforms pulling chairs out before one could even think to ask for such a thing. The low chandeliers that glowed with such a light as to make Alec believe they might actually be elaborate, glass oil lamps. The plush velvet seats, the crisp table cloths, and the forty-five piece set of silverware, crystal glasses and fine China.

Magnus fluttered about to his designated positions with ease. Alec could only attempt to comprehend how they'd achieve the level of discretion they'd need to stay in a place like this tonight.

"What're your thoughts here," Alec asked, probably more quietly than he strictly needed to, but in such an intimate environment he couldn't help the skepticism that kept him on edge. He'd met clients for drinks in nice places before, but nothing ever compared to this.

"I'm thinking..." Magnus tapped his chin and spoke a bit more conversationally than Alec. He picked up the menu left on his plate and examined it. "The hand dived scallops."

Alec blinked back at him for a few moments.

"What?"

"Yes! It's served with Los Boldos Chardonnay. That should be quite nice this time of year."

"Magnus, quit fucking around–"

"I'm doing no such thing." Magnus set the menu back down, giving Alec his full attention perhaps for the first time all night. "I'm merely deciding my meal. You should do the same; our server will return soon."

Alec growled, but caught the server milling about in the corner of his eye and made a quick decision to play along. It seemed like a complicated fetish to order food at a Michelin star establishment before getting fucked within an inch of one's life, but Alec had been in this profession for some two or three years now. He should have expected things to start getting weird eventually.

The server returned as quickly as Alec decided what to eat and was going again in half that time. Alec bumped his knee against Magnus's under the table, but before he could really start anything the server returned waxing poetic about some terribly expensive bottle of wine Magnus had ordered for the table. Alec waited a solid five minutes longer to make sure the server wasn't coming back anytime soon before running the toes of his most expensive dress shoe up Magnus's inseam. Magnus jolted for a moment, and Alec took pleasure in seeing his carefully crafted façade start to crack for once this evening.

"Alexander," he drawled low and sharp, "What are you doing?"

"Don't call me that," Alec muttered, then he smirked at Magnus. "I'm playing. That's what I'm here for, right? To play?"

Magnus offered him another plastic smile, and Alec decided he hated those more than any ridiculously stuck up face he'd seen Magnus make since they met.

"I have you all night. There will be plenty of time for games later."

That... didn't make sense. But Magnus was paying him hourly, and apparently treating him to the best food he'd ever eat in his life, so what did he care?

* * *

The first course came and went in uncomfortable silence. The food was succulent, balanced, flavorful, and distracting. Whatever the purpose of this incredible meal, Alec wasn't going to like it. When the second course passed much the same way: without the insufferably meticulous, demanding Magnus making so much as a comment about the food, Alec's tolerance thinned out.

"What's going on here?"

Magnus hummed, examining a fork like he'd just remembered Alec was there.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You barely said a word since we got here. You haven't told me anything this evening beyond to stop me from doing my job."

The server reappeared with a third course, and Magnus tried to divert his attention again.

"Food's here. Relax; enjoy the meal. Do you have somewhere else to be?"

"If I'm sitting here, schmoozing with you, I could be out making money, so yeah. I might have something better to do."

"Alexander, don't be ridiculous. I'm still paying you. Why are you in such a hurry?"

"Stop calling me that–"

"You didn't have a problem with it last night."

"Well, I do now," Alec hissed, glancing quickly around the room.

"You haven't answered my question."

"Okay, why _aren't_ you in a hurry? If you're still paying me, then I'm still charging you hourly. I never do overnights; I don't have a flat rate for you. I'm breaking all my rules for you, so don't think I'll go easy on your wallet."

"You went easy on that last night, too," Magnus muttered to himself. Alec still heard him, and he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't meant to. Nevertheless, he elected to ignore that sentiment, and the two resumed eating in silence.

A dizzying fourth course came around, and Alec certainly hoped it would be their last.

"Tell me about yourself," Magnus prompted out of the blue. Alec blinked.

"Why?"

"Because I'm curious. What are your hobbies; how do you spend your free time; what are some goals and aspirations; what's your favorite color?"

As Magnus rattled off questions, suddenly and with a force of hindsight that had him reeling, Alec realized what this whole dinner was about. He scoffed ruefully at his half eaten dish.

"Oh no. No no. Magnus, you seem like a nice enough guy, but I'm not doing this. I'm not a date; I'm not your boyfriend." Alec's throat closed around the word, and all at once he agreed with Magnus that the tight size of his suit was unacceptable. He pulled at his collar and pushed out his chair. He drew a business card from his wallet and dropped it before Magnus's plate as he stood. "Let me know when you want to cash in your remaining night," he offered, and turned to leave. Magnus stood up after him.

"Alexan–"

"I told you," Alec interrupted, wheeling on Magnus with an accusing finger, "to stop calling me that."

Magnus swallowed, and Alec once again turned to leave.

"Gideon. Gideon, wait!"

But Alec was as good as gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I _Learned_ , in the minimal research I have done so far for this fic, that there are Two Armani Suit Brands! One produces super ultra upwards of $30,000 suits (that's Giorgio Armani)! The _Other_ makes suits-that-are-only-reasonably-priced-by-comparison suits that sell in the ballpark of $300 (that's Emporio Armani). I figure the Lightwoods are like politics rich and so don't quite have the money to shell out for a Giorgio Armani suit, but also that Robert Lightwood wouldn't drop that kinda coin on a suit for a high schooler even if he had that money to spend. Meanwhile, Magnus – for backstory reasons I may or may not actually get around to explaining in this story – is like upper .1% rich. Like bordering on royalty, money will never be an object kind of rich. _Sure, baby, your suit is as Armani as you want it to be_.


	4. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izzy and Alec have a coffee date. That's it; that's the joke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. The last chapter seemed a little dialogue heavy. Here's an idea! Let's make half this chapter _a bloody conversation_. Christ, Wizard, get it together.

Magnus didn't call. Nearly two weeks had passed since Alec stormed out of a top Michelin rated restaurant like a teenager, leaving Magnus with nothing more than a business card and what essentially amounted to a threat. Still, something in the hollow of Alec's chest – something clogging the base of his throat: pressing into the backs of his eyes – forced him to admit he was disappointed.

Autumn was rolling in. People on the streets began to buzz about Halloween parties, and Christmas bonuses. And of course every wolf on Wall Street wanted to be "home" for Black Friday. Alec didn't do regulars, but he didn't earn himself a reputation wandering around the blue collar districts. Business rolled in on the backs of golden leaves, and no matter what – or whom – Alec did, he couldn't get his mind off of Magnus.

Izzy snapped her fingers in his face and Alec tried to hide his jump.

"Where do you keep drifting off to today?"

Alec picked at the edge of the lid on his coffee.

"Nowhere. It's nothing," he said, forcing himself to make eye contact with his sister. "Just work stuff."

"Work stuff." Izzy's eye softened, and Alec sighed so he wouldn't groan. "Alec, are you still being safe?"

"Yes, Izzy, I'm the sneakiest slut in New York City."

"You're not a slut!" she hissed, and at that point Alec did groan.

"Listen, Iz–"

"No, Alec, you listen. This is your life. I'm not here to judge your decisions. If you're happy, and _careful_ , that's all that matters to me. But you're not a slut. I will not sit here and let you degrade yourself."

Alec smirked.

"What's wrong with being a slut, Izzy? Like you said, I'm happy with what I'm doing; I like it, and what I do is sleep with people–"

"The look on your face when you said it."

The smirk slid off his face, and he sighed again.

"Call yourself whatever makes you comfortable, but if you're going to look like that when you say it, think of something else to say."

"Fine." Alec stared his sister down. "Isabelle Sophia Lightwood, I promise I am the sneakiest _escort_ in New York City."

"Better." Izzy nodded, "But that's still not what I'm asking."

"I went to the clinic last week," Alec replied, "still clean. And I don't work without condoms; that's one of my cardnal rules."

Izzy's face relaxed.

"Actually," Alec muttered before he could stop himself, "that's the only rule we didn't break." He winced as soon as the words left his lips.

" _What?_ That's the only rule _who_ didn't break?"

Alec took a long draw of his coffee, and upon seeing the insistent, saucer eyes on his sister's face, he took another. She punched his arm.

" _Alec_ ," she hissed, "do you have a _boyfriend?_ "

"What!?" Alec choked, "No! No, I don't have a "boyfriend." There was a client who... convinced me... to stay the night a couple of weeks ago. And he let me... mark him... rather visibly. And I may have let him... mark me... rather visibly... in kind..." He melted his head below his arms onto the table as he spoke.

" _Alexander Gideon Lightwood!_ "

"Shut up, Isabelle," Alec groaned, "it isn't like that. He was just... distracting." He lifted his head and picked at his cup again.

"Well, are you going to see him again?"

"No?"

"I thought he broke all your rules," Izzy drawled with a smirk.

"Well, he almost–!" Alec felt his voice ring through the thinning crowd of the coffee house. He took a deep breath and started again, "He almost did." He picked closer at the edge of his lid. "I agreed to give him one more night. But then he tried to take me on a date. Izzy, I'm not doing that again; I just can't."

"Just can't what? Just can't date? Just can't romance a little? Alec, this guy might be good for you!"

"No, Iz! I can't open myself up like that again!"

He huffed leaning back into his seat and blinking back the tears that threatened to claw out his throat. Izzy reached across the small wooden table and laid her hand over the death grip he had on his empty coffee cup.

"Alec, I know Andrew–"

"Underhill."

"I know Underhill hurt you. He used you, and you have every right to be furious about what he did. But you can't let him steal your happiness. If this client makes you happy, you can let yourself see him again."

Alec was quiet for a long moment. Izzy gave his hand a final squeeze and pulled away to collect her bag. Alec stood and waited to walk her out. She hugged him outside the coffee house and he held her as long as he could.

"I love you, big brother. And all I want is for you to be happy. You know that, right?"

"I know," Alec said, pulling back, "and I love you, too."

"Think about what I said," she stressed, trying to catch his eye."

"I will," he promised. Then Izzy was off to work.

* * *

The man – some no name, fifty some odd bastard with a white picket fence, two point five kids, and a seven figure bank account – grunted, as he stuffed his stubby cock into Alec. Prep was minimal, sub par, and hasty, and he shivered as Alec moaned like his was the best cock Alec had had in years.

"Gideon," the man panted, rutting short thrusts inside Alec in the hopes that he wouldn't accidentally slide out. "Gideon. Oh, baby, you're so good for me, Gideon!"

Alec bit his lip and pretended he was wimpering from pleasure. Alec didn't bother to supress his own shudder when the guy started placing pointed kisses wherever he could reach on Alec's back. In his delirious throws of passion, he wouldn't be able to tell the difference. His panting grew thick, and his thrusts grew uneven. With one final, unattractive grunt, Alec felt the left over tip of the guy's condom balloon inside him.

"Gideon!" he cried, collapsing onto Alec and rolling out onto the empty side of the bed. Alec stretched forward and offered the man a lazy grin.

"Wow," he sighed, steel blue eyes starry in the worst way, "you are the most incredible whore."

Alec shrugged his eyebrows and giggled softly. He leaned up on his elbows and slid his arm gently down the guy's chest, nimble fingers working the used condom from his limp cock. The man shuttered, as Alec expertly tied it off with one hand. Alec giggled again, then turned around slowly and theatrically. Yawning and stretching, he maneuvered himself so as never to reveal to the man his flacid cock, as he removed his own empty condom and tossed them both in the trash.

Alec felt the man's eyes trail him as he stalked around the room.

"You certainly live up to your reputation, Gideon. Are you sure you'd never consider taking regulars?"

"Mm-mm." Alec shook his head with an apologetic pout. "Regulars attract pimps, baby. Consistent source of income, manageable clientele, all of a sudden you've made yourself a model employee. I'd rather work freelance. It keeps my money in my pockets; you understand, right?"

The man moaned following the sultry tone of Alec's voice and body as he laid himself back across the bed. "Nnnn, but I wish I didn't."

Alec chuckled then dragged his lips down the man's chubby chest.

"Why, you ready for round two," he purred, and he felt the hollow rumble of the man's low laugh rattle in his chest.

"No, baby. I think you wore me out."

"Aww," Alec pouted, "you still have me for another," he lifted the man's wrist and checked his Rolex, "fifteen minutes." And how the hell had that man taken twenty minutes to get started?

"Maybe I can do something for you?"

"Only if you want to." Alec bit a smirk.

The man growled and pushed Alec's shoulders until he lay flat on his back. He began trailing those same stiff, pointed kisses down Alec's chest, and Alec carefully misregulated his breath. He attacked Alec's nipple with a loose, heavy tongue, and stretched a beefy hand between Alec's thighs until the force of friction alone brought Alec erect.

He fumbled a hand to the box of condoms on the bedside table, slipping a fresh one between them and over his cock, as the man continued to descend towards it. He licked a clumsy strip along the underside of Alec's cock before he stuffed it into his mouth.

Alec groaned, clenched his eyes, arched his back, and willed to mind someone with whom he actually might enjoy doing this: someone he might actually like. The man bobbed his head in a jerky pace, and sucked soft and syrupy. Alec kept his eyes closed and for once welcomed the image of warm, deep brown eyes rimmed in kohl and flecking gold in the morning sunlight. He pictured tanned skin and strawberry lips smirking and teasing him with the worst blowjob of his career. He replaced the meaty hands on his hips with strong, lithe fingers painted in glossy, midnight blue polish. He chuckled to himself, as his hips began to buck against the man's restraints. He drew himself closer and closer to the edge with one name on his lips. And as he came, wrapped in a condom ensconced in a stranger's sloppy mouth, he bit his tongue to swallow it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please understand. I know nothing of the culture of sex work. I don't know how freelancers operate or if there even _are_ freelancers. I don't know what does and does not attract pimps. I don't know the proper terminology; I know nothing. Not that I've gotten backlash yet, but to be preemptive about it: I'm writing this story for fun using my assumptions surrounding the logic of freelance business I've encountered in other fields, and the terminology on the subject I've picked up from a couple of Ted talks and mostly other fic I've read. I do apologize if I fucked this up, but chances are I won't fix it. In part, because the model I've used here best serves the narrative I'm trying to create, but also because I'm too lazy.


	5. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec has an emotional breakdown. Or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really all I can get out right now. It's basically just a scene, but I've been fighting writer's block, so imma give you what I got while I got energy to post it. I've got a little more stretching I'd like to do with this plot point before I'm ready to move on to the next one, but bright side! My head is _stuck_ on the next conflict. So I've still got steam behind the story! Lemme know what ya think! I miss your comments already :(

All at once Alec couldn't shove it down anymore. And so he found himself, demonstrating the primary reason he usually met clients in hotels. Pacing back and forth in front of Magnus's loft, he tried desperately to convince himself both to, and not to, knock.

His feet carried him to the stairwell; his shoulders turned him to the welcome mat. His chest shoved him to the end of the hallway; his lower back pressed his eye to the peep hole. His hips pulled him back toward the railing, but finally, his fist rapped lightly on the door.

Nothing happened for a long moment. And of course it didn't. Why would anything have happened? Alec was pacing in front of Magnus's door at 10:30 on a Wednesday night and if Magnus wasn't asleep already... Well, if Magnus wasn't asleep already then any number of things were possible. He knew nothing about Magnus. He could have been at work. He could have been out for the evening. He could have had a standing appointment every Wednesday evening. He could have been out of town for all Alec knew. This was a terrible idea, and on the next turn of pace Alec had all but made up his mind to turn and walk–

"Al-Gideon."

The door knocker and chain lock jingled in Alec's ear, and when he turned around, his breath fled his lungs. Magnus stood in the doorway, maroon satin sleep robe hanging loosely around him, blinking blearily behind bed-head bangs through unlined eyes, and short of the very same man straining against cuffs climbing to the peek of pleasure amidst his sheets, Alec struggled to imagine a picture more perfect. And every word Alec had stacked up and shoved away since he last saw that perfect man came tumbling through his lips.

"I just – I, um. I came to apologize," Alec began, realizing it was true, "for, uh. For the way I acted a couple weeks ago. I." Alec paused, giving Magnus a chance to react. Or maybe intervene. Magnus waited. "We discussed boundaries on a _very_ mechanical level that first night, and then we broke all those rules, and you couldn't have known about my personal boundaries, or how strictly I enforce them, and I really wasn't being fair to you; you were just trying to treat us to a nice dinner, and I ruined that. And basically I came here to say that I'm sorry." Alec stopped again, but Magnus still didn't say anything, "A-and also. If you still wanted, maybe, to, um, to. If you'd consider becoming my _only_ regular. I. Well, the truth is I haven't been able to get you off my mind. And I'm not really ready for a relationship or anything, but I would like to see more of you."

Alec stood in Magnus's doorway, decidedly empty of words. He blinked. Magnus blinked. Alec cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry; this was a bad idea; I shouldn't have come."

"No, wait, Gideon, please." Magnus shook his head and lay a gentle hand on his wrist, and Alec thought that were it made of lead, he could move more easily. He looped his ring-clad fingers between Alec's bare hands and led him slowly inside. He used the weight of Alec's back to press the door closed before capturing Alec's lips in a languid kiss. "You look like you could use some... direction."

Alec shuddered openly, chasing Magnus's lips with a wimper because he could. He wanted direction; he wanted someone to tell him what to do. He wanted someone to loom over him, and caress his face and give him an order and praise him when he did it right. He'd been topped so many times in the weeks since he last saw Magnus, but he'd never once been dominated. Not since Magnus bound his wrists in a silk sash above his head, blindfolded him with an eye mask, and pulled him apart at the seems. Alec had done so much thinking in the past two weeks. He'd thought about his rules and how much he'd allowed them to govern his life. He thought about the date, and what Magnus could come to mean to him. He'd thought about Underhill and why Alec had rules in the first place: why Alec was on this career path in the first place. He thought about how much Magnus's feelings scared him: about how much they excited him. He thought about what his sister said: about his happiness. He thought about Magnus. About Magnus's eyes, and his lips, and his body and his smile and his... And his laugh.

Alec really didn't want to think anymore.

"What do you want to do tonight, Darling," Magnus asked guiding Alec farther into the apartment. Alec shook his head. The words caught in his throat as his mind continued to reel in ways he didn't want it to: in ways he liked too much.

"Cat got your tongue?" Magnus teased, but it wasn't funny, and for reasons beyond Alec's comprehension, it suddenly _really wasn't funny._ Tears slipped down his face before he could process he was crying. One dripped heavy from his chin, and he sucked in a sharp gasp trying to will more from following. Magnus was on him immediately. He swiped his thumbs below each eye.

"Hey, hey hey hey! No, Gideon, sweetheart, you don't have to say anything. You don't need to say a word until you're ready; I'm sorry."

Alec nodded, sucked in another breath, and held it to compose himself. Magnus shifted closer again, slotting his shoulder beneath Alec's chin and his face into the crook of Alec's neck. His lips danced along the skin there as he murmured, "It's okay. You can cry here."

Alec broke like a teacup holding the Atlantic. 

"Fuck," he whimpered grabbing at Magnus's thin, satin robe and digging his face into his shoulder. He sobbed for a while shorter probably than he felt like he did. His body shuddered, braced against Magnus, and he choked when he found his words. "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I came over here to apologize. I set these huge limits because I'm not ready to do this with you yet; I'm not ready to be this person for you, Magnus, but you deserve so much better than this. You invited me in on my terms: on professional terms, and here I am breaking all those boundaries I won't even allow you to cross! I've been thinking too much; I'm thinking too much!"

Alec pulled back and scrubbed at his face.

"Could we just start over? Let's just start over. I don't wanna think anymore; Magnus, please tell me what to do; fuck me, so I don't have to think anymore."

Magnus's lips parted briefly, brow furrowed, concern set deep in his dark chocolate eyes.

"Gideon, you seem like you could use some sleep."

Alec blinked a few times.

"Why don't. Why don't you spend the night. It's late to be trying to get from Brooklyn to Inwood –"

"No," Alec moaned, "No! I'm sorry; I know I keep breaking all my rules with you, but I won't do this right now; I can't be in a relationship again." And maybe he did need sleep, because he was starting to sound drunk.

"I'm not offering under the pretense of a relationship, Gideon. I'm offering as a friend."

Alec stood stock still for maybe the fifth time that night: trying to process what Magnus had said. In the space, Magnus fluttered behind Alec, placed his hands on his shoulders, and once again began guiding him back towards his room.

"Here," he said, shrugging Alec out of his leather jacket, "you take the bed; I'll camp out on the couch–"

A switch flicked in Alec's head.

"No, no, Magnus. If you're going to be kind enough to offer your hospitality, I insist on taking the couch."

Magnus only smirked at him.

"What happened to doing what you were told," he teased. Alec's face creased, guilt twisting like worms in his gut. Magnus moved closer, brushing a hand over lint or something on Alec's shoulder. His eyes flicked to Alec's lips, and lingered for a moment before he cleared his throat and stepped away again. "Good night, Gideon. I'll see you in the morning."

His smile was tight, and Alec again found himself contemplating the amount of money he'd spend never to have to see something so forced, so false on Magnus's face again. Even still, before Alec could say another word, Magnus was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could you tell I was struggling with verbalizing Alec's emotions here? No? I was.


	6. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec has no focus, no conviction, and no gag reflex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Cha-cha slide voice* Two Scenes This Time!
> 
> And y'all have no idea how many time I restarted the second half!
> 
> CW: Actual Very Explicit Sexual Activity. Avert thine eyes, small children! And remember the cornerstone to any and all bdsm relationships is Safe, Sane, Consentual!

The second time Alec awoke in Magnus's bedroom left him feeling heavy, and swollen, and warm. His blood sludged listlessly through his veins like he'd been dosed with an elephant tranquilizer. The soft, sunshine sheets caressed his skin; the plush matress enveloped him; the deep, beachy, sandalwood scent of Magnus clung to him: sunk into him like a lazy drug. He knew he should have been panicking. The thought of Magnus buying him dinner derailed him for two weeks. But he was just so _content_. His body settled with the thought, but as a shaft of daylight reached across Magnus's room, the idea poked the edge of his brain like a brand.

He was _content_ with Magnus. He was _comfortable_ with Magnus. He'd met the guy twice, and had already agreed to allow him to see Alec _regularly_. They'd agreed to be _friends_. What if he wanted to introduce Alec to his other friends? What if he wanted to share Alec? This was why Alec had rules in the first place!

Alec groaned, stuffing his face into a pillow. He tried to breathe in the scent of sandalwood and cling to what he'd observed about Magnus. He wasn't Underhill. Fuck, Underhill should be so lucky as to look half as good as Magnus on an off day. The situation was entirely different. He wasn't dating Magnus, and Magnus was respecting _his_ pace. He was already a prostitute, so it wasn't like Magnus would be inducting him into anything new. And with Magnus, he would pay attention, continue to set boundaries, put his foot down when he noticed something sketchy.

Magnus had let him spend the night – "as a friend" – "no strings attached."

Alec groaned again. His alarm hadn't gone off yet; it was too early to be thinking this much.

Suddenly, Alec's brain began thinking of thinking: fixating on how he didn't want to do it – on how he hadn't wanted to do it last night. His mind began to conjure up stories: scenarios as to what may have happened if Alec hadn't had a complete emotional breakdown.

Alec's stomach curled with the idea of presenting himself to Magnus, stripped and on his knees, begging him to take away his rampaging thoughts: to flood him with feeling.

Alec rolled from the bed, and slunk from the room. He ignored his shoes, stationed at the foot of the mahagony bedframe, the glimpse he caught of his coat hanging by Magnus's front door, as he rounded the corner into Magnus's living room. He shed his shirt as he went, draping it over the armchair adjacent to where Magnus lay on the couch. He loosed the button of his jeans ignoring the fact that at some point last night, his belt had been removed without him noticing. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered at that moment, because anything that would stand between Alec and the enticing, commanding force of nature on the couch, existed only to get in Alec's way.

He knelt gracelessly before the couch, running his fingers through Magnus's hair, and biting his lip to keep from wimpering. He probably looked like a dog: some needy pet for Magnus to play with and ignore at his leisure. Alec didn't care. In fact he wanted nothing more in that moment. His thoughts were so loud; he just wanted someone to shut them up!

As he curled his fingers through Magnus's bangs, Magnus blinked awake and Alec melted into the way the sunlight changed his chocolate eyes to a magnificent honey gold. He actually did wimper when Magnus smirked at him.

"Well, isn't this a lovely sight to wake up to," Magnus noted, and Alec keened. "You look like you want something." Alec nodded vigorously. "Are we ready to use words today," Magnus coaxed more gently than he probably needed to. Alec gasped in response.

"Magnus," he whined, "wanna be good for you. So good. Wanna make you feel good. Want you to shut off all the sounds in my head. Tell me what to do," and Alec butted his head into Magnus's hand, "tell me, and I'll do it. I'll be so good for you."

Magnus hummed and grinned, sitting up on the couch to face Alec better. He swept his hand through Alec's hair and cradled the side of Alec's face.

"You want me to lead, baby?"

Alec nodded, nuzzling into his palm.

"What's your color, pup?"

"Yellow," Alec swallowed because he wanted this _so badly_ but his brain wouldn't let him run off without a game plan again.

"What can we do to make it green," Magnus pouted, and Alec bit his lip and whined again.

"Ground rules," he murmured, and Magnus nodded.

"Okay," Magnus agreed and glanced up to the ceiling for a moment like he was looking for where to begin. Alec knew he should start this conversation – he was the professional; this was a part of his job – but beyond the buzz in his brain where his thoughts were _warring_ as to whether or not this was a good idea, Alec struggled to grasp anything tangible in that moment.

"How about we start by reciting our colors," Magnus suggested. Again, it was all Alec could do to nod. "Okay. Green means..."

"Go," Alec offered, sitting up straighter.

"Good," Magnus praised, and Alec sighed as a smile stretched across his face. "Yellow means..."

"Slow down!"

"Excellent! And red means..."

"Stop!"

"Three for three, Gideon!" Magnus beamed, and Alec whimpered again.

"Alexander," he corrected, and Magnus's face twisted into a frown.

"Are you certain," he asked, grasping Alec's face in both hands and forcing him to look in his eyes.

"Green," Alec whispered, and he beamed when Magnus gave him a small smile in return.

"Very well, Alexander." And the name washed over him like a warm summer rain. "Here's what we're going to do. I ask a question, you give me your color and an answer. Your color can be the answer, but the more description you give the better. Understand?

"Green," Alec agreed, then tacked on, "I understand."

Heat pooled in Alec's stomach again as Magnus swept his eyes down him: appraising him with a satisfied smirk.

"Very good," he purred, and Alec shivered. "You seem to enjoy being praised today." It wasn't a question, but Alec realized he was supposed to answer anyway.

"Green. My thoughts are so loud today."

"And this helps?"

"Green, you make my head quiet."

"How do I do that?" The commanding, syrupy quality drifted from Magnus's voice, and Alec could tell he was more curious than on task. He wimpered, trying ironically to encourage Magnus to focus. Still, he asked a question, and per his ground rules, Alec was required to answer.

"You take the power. If I don't make decisions, I don't have to think."

Magnus's features opened, a look of recognition dawning across his beautiful face. Still, he tilted Alec's head back by his chin. "Color," he reminded him, and Alec swallowed.

"Green."

"Very good. So you want me in complete control right now."

"Green."

"I'll give an order, and you'll follow it?"

"Green."

"If you do well, I'll praise you."

"Green."

"Very good." And suddenly a certain shade filled Magnus's eye. He threaded his fingers through the hair at the base of Alec's neck, and while they only danced there, Alec could feel his skin prickle beneath them as Magnus asked, "And how shall I punish you if you fail to follow orders?"

Alec's throat began to close. Cotton stuffed his mouth. Shadows began to squeeze his chest, and the buzzing that had steadily dulled to the back of his mind, spontaneously swarmed his head.

"Red," Alec whispered, staring down at his lap.

Magnus drew him back at once, wiping a thumb below his eye where tears had begun to gather.

"Alright then," Magnus whispered. "I'll be very gentle." He placed a kiss to the corner of Alec's other eye.

"You have done so well for me; I'm so proud of how open you've been. You've been so good." He continued to peck at the side of Alec's face, moving down his cheek to the hinge of his jaw. "Are you ready to begin, darling?"

Alec nodded, lost in the feeling of Magnus's lips brushing his skin.

"Color," Magnus whispered.

"Green," Alec breathed.

"Wonderful, Alexander. Then let's begin."

* * *

Alec loved Lydia Branwell. She was perfect. She was tall for a girl, but shorter enough than Alec to seem petit by comparison. She was thin – but not unhealthy – leggy, and blonde. She wore fashionable sundresses, or oversized sweaters with skin tight jeans. She drank caffeinated coffee with two creams and one sugar. Low maintenance. She was reasonable and level headed: smart and sensible. She was terse, but fair, and never unkind. She was endlessly patient. But Alec could never bring himself to kiss her.

She had been Alec's high school girlfriend, and Robert had hoped – or maybe expected – that one day she'd become his wife. And Alec loved Lydia. He had spent plenty of time with her before graduation; they'd traversed many shockingly successful dates. She was funny, and Alec had never minded holding her hand. He could carry her, and cuddle with her; he even found himself _enjoying_ the physical aspect of their relationship. She was easily one of his best friends. But he could never kiss her.

Well maybe that wasn't quite true. He'd kissed her hands and fingers and wrists. He'd kissed her cheeks and forehead and nose. But whenever Alec imagined kissing her lips, he physically recoiled.

As Alec lay, stretched on his back on Magnus's black velvet sofa: hands bracketing his throbbing cock (but not touching; Magnus had told him no touching): head tilted back over the armrest as Magnus fucked into his throat, he thought – not for the first time – _This is why_.

Lydia would never have a cock. She was quiet comfortable in her skin as a woman, and she had every reason to be. But for all the world, Alec would never be able to find that particular trait as appealing as the feeling of Magnus's cock sliding against the back of his throat.

Magnus moaned above him.

"Alexander," he prayed, "You take me so well. Your throat is so hot, so tight – _Ah!_ You've been such a good listener: such an obediant, tight cock sleeve – _Fuck!_ "

Alec shivered violently at the word. He could be Magnus's cock sleeve! He wanted to be, desperately, so good for Magnus. The perfect tool to be used and thrown away at Magnus's whim. Even as his throat constricted around it, Alec could feel his mouth water for Magnus's cock.

"So good," Magnus hissed, thrusting faster into his throat, "my favorite, Alexander. You're my favorite little slut!"

He was a toy and nothing more than a toy, but he took pride in being Magnus's favorite toy. His cock twitched, and had he been able, he would have whimpered.

Suddenly, Magnus pulled out of Alec's throat and Alec full on wailed: immediately twisting onto his stomach and half catapulting himself over the arm of the sofa.

"Patience, love, patience," Magnus crooned, sauntering into the kitchen and returning with a bell shaped plastic bottle that looked like hand sanitizer.

"Magnus," Alec whined, "I don't need it. I did good! So good sucking you. You're so wet! I don't need it–"

Magnus held up a hand, and Alec stopped talking. He grabbed a condom from the drawer of the lamp table opposite to where Alec had thrown himself over the couch and rolled it on over all of Alec's hard work. Distantly, the back of his mind made note of the fact that they'd started without one: without any. Then Magnus popped the cap on the bottle, coated three fingers and began prodding at Alec's entrance. As soon as Magnus's first finger breached Alec, he was slack-jelly over the arm of the couch. Magnus leaned forward and began to pepper gentle kisses across Alec's shoulder blades.

"You did so perfect, Tercinta, but I still need to prep you."

Alec groaned as Magnus slowly slid one slicked up digit into his hole. He crooked it inside Alec, curling and thrusting to accustomize him to a new intrusion. The more Magnus squirmed his finger around – scraping his walls, filling Alec even the tiniest bit – the more Alec wondered how anyone could ever consider such a sensation intrusive.

When Alec began thrusting on Magnus's finger, chasing Magnus's own stimulating movements, Magnus slowly, gently, added another finger. He drew the two in and out of Alec carefully, and Alec whimpered. He began to scissor: widening Alec and sending more twitching shocks to where his cock was trapped against the couch cushions. Once again, he waited until Alec was thrusting on him to add the third.

Magnus didn't need the preamble with the third digit. Alec could feel his hole gaping open, begging Magnus in just as he himself would if he'd been able to form words at that point. Nevertheless, Magnus fanned his three slick fingers inside Alec, thrusting lightly just to watch Alec squirm. When Magnus brushed just below Alec's prostate, Alec yelped, and suddenly _all Magnus's fingers were gone_

Alec cried.

"Why!? No! Come back! I'm sorry!"

He heard a soft chuckle above him before Magnus began to shush him gently. He felt something rounder, more blunt, and notably bigger than three fingers slip right past the yawning ring of his hole. Magnus sighed, leaning down again to mouth at Alec's neck. Alec bit his lip, and his eyes began to flutter to the back of his skull as Magnus slid further inside. His arm began to creep between his body and the couch cushions, hands groping desperately towards relief. Magnus caught his bicep and squeezed a bit.

"If you can do so without touching yourself," Magnus whispered, his hot breath ghosting into Alec's ear, "I'll let you cum."

Alec's hips bucked back involuntarily on Magnus's cock. Magnus groaned in unison with Alec, as he found himself fully seated in Alec's ass rather sooner than he probably meant to be. Alec shuddered as Magnus drew himself back long and slow.

He reached down beside the couch and collected a pillow from the floor, biting into it when Magnus slammed back into him. Magnus began a bruising pace, thrusting hard and fast into Alec. Alec's hands white knuckled the pillow. He gasped, and shuddered: twitched and quaked, as Magnus found his prostate and hammered against it again and again and again. He fell closer and closer to orgasm, until seconds later it hit him with a dizzying crash.

Magnus stopped for a fraction of a second and panted, "Color, Darling?"

Alec nodded, squirming boneless and week, smearing his cum against the couch.

"Green," he muttered, and Magnus picked up his pace again. He hit Alec's spent prostate again almost immediately and Alec writhed, crying out. Before Magnus even got the chance to ask, Alec shouted, "Green! Green! Holy _Fuck!_ "

Magnus rammed Alec for almost a full minute more, before finally stuttering to a halt inside Alec. Every centemeter of Alec's skinned buzzed like exposed live wire. Magnus kissed down Alec's spine as he pulled out, and Alec felt a fresh tear for every feather-light mark Magnus left on his skin.

"You were beyond perfect, my Alexander," Magnus purred into the hollow of Alec's back, and had he any breath left he might scream like the electric waves it sent coursing through his body.

"M-mah... Mmmm-Ma–" Alec babbled, trying and failing to form words, or thoughts, or to do anything that wasn't just lying on the couch twitching in his own seed. He couldn't. Not when Magnus whispered sweet nothings against his skin, or when he got up from the couch and left the room. He couldn't so much as turn his head until Magnus returned with a warm wash cloth and began tracing it over Alec's body.

"How are you feeling, Gideon," he asked and Alec tensed for a moment. He did turn his head then to find Magnus's warm, dark chocolate eyes.

"I meant it," he muttered, as Magnus traced the cloth over the curve of his neck. Magnus shook his head.

"I already break too many of your rules. We even started today without a condom; that was so stupid!" His hand froze and rapidly cooling water began to pool between Alec's shoulder blades. Alec reached out a hand finding Magnus's unoccupied one curled into a fist against his knee. A brief thought flick through Alec's head that Magnus sat exactly where Alec had started the day. He pried Magnus's hand open and threaded his fingers through his own.

"In here, when it's just the two of us _alone_ , you can use my name."

When Magnus's eyes softened and a warm butter smile spread across his face, Alec vehemently ignored the voice screaming in the back of his head.

_What Did You Just Do!?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Growing montage! If I can figure out how to do that! If not, we skip _straight to the angst!_


	7. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past and present start to blend in Alec's periphery in a way that might be too close to happiness for Alec's comfort. So instead he'll go get hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll edit this in the morning; I'm too drunk to do it now.
> 
>  **!!!IMPORTANT!!!** chapter warning is as follows: 
> 
> This chapter contains graphic depictions of rape! This is a dangerous topic, and if it is triggering to you, DO NOT READ IT. Please! Take care of yourselves!

NYU had been rough for Alec, but he wasn't especially sure that working as a regular for Magnus Bane wasn't turning out to be rougher. Alec didn't really have to worry about heartbreak in college – or at least, he hadn't thought he'd need to when he started. Robert Lightwood expected his eldest son to follow him into the wonderful world of politics, and to start in that world, Alec would need a law degree.

"No distractions." Robert had been smirking when he'd said it, but he did mean for Alec not to fall into a relationship; he'd just never bothered to consider that Alec could end up with a guy. And why would he have reason to believe that? Alec had done a damn good job bolting himself inside the closet before Underhill. Not even Jace figured it out! Izzy was the only one who knew before that dreadful, fateful Thanksgiving.

But even outside of any of that, Alec never expected to find love in his work. He was being groomed; he'd known that his entire life. No one had ever bothered to ask Alec what he wanted from his life: not his siblings, not his parents, not anyone. Alec alone held his dreams to his chest. He tied them there with super glue and duct tape and safety deposit padlocks because if people were going to treat his life – his "desires" – like some dirty little secret, they would be the best kept secret in the world. He locked them away and plunged them so deep inside himself that eventually he'd forgotten they were there.

When he dropped out of school. When he left school and started sleeping with people – with _men_ – for serious profit, the ghost of a whisper of a memory resurfaced in his mind. Some fairy tale, like a bedtime story he hadn't heard since he was seven floated around in his head gently dousing the edges of his brain in a pleasant tint of rose. Some half forgotten dream about a teacher and his husband. But that wasn't what he'd actually broken his father's shackles to do.

In the first couple of months, when Alec started to cut the ties between his incredible new profession and his despicable ex-boyfriend, sex work felt like the ultimate middle finger to his government issue dad. But overtime, when that rosy pink memory began to saturate Alec's head – when it started leaving stains in the corners of his brain – he realized that it was more like a ring finger. Because that wasn't really the gesture he'd intended to make. Fucking rich guys for cash wasn't really what he'd wanted to do either. Then, about two years later, Alec found himself in Brooklyn once a week.

Every time he'd meet up with Magnus, Alec would pass an old church building some three blocks south of Magnus's luxurious brownstone loft. It had been converted into a school some ten or fifteen years before Alec was born: The New York Institute of Arts and Technology. The old secret, the old rose-tinted memory, bubbled closer to the surface every time he passed it. Once, a cabby caught the red at the corner where the building stood. As he stared out the window at the elegant, old cathedral, Alec's memory popped. Watching the silent spires standing sentinel over the school, Alec could almost imagine a classroom. The New York Institute of Arts and Technology: that was where the teacher worked. He couldn't remember ever knowing what the teacher's husband did for a living, but as six weeks turned into twelve months, he began to think that maybe the teacher's husband owned three clubs in Brooklyn: specifically, Pandemonium, Inferno, and Edom's Den.

A year after agreeing to meet Magnus Bane on a regular basis, Alec forced himself to admit he was falling in love.

That fact was sharp. It stabbed white hot like a freshly molded glass knife, and he promised himself that he would lock it away next to that dusty old dream where noone could find it.

* * *

Just because Alec would meet with Magnus once a week didn't mean he stopped seeing other customers. It proved difficult to keep work and personal lives separate (another point Alec added to the list of reasons never to take on a regular client), but for the most part, Alec's relationship with Magnus remained... professional. And Alec's profession extended beyond Magnus. So his weeks fell evenly into Monday nights and not Monday nights.

That night was _not_ a Monday night.

Alec had been headed into a nearby hotel when a fresh face accosted him. He smiled a little like Polaris, and Alec didn't bother trying not to think about the fact that this man would be eclipsed by Magnus's sun. Regardless, he wasn't unattractive. He stood shyly taller than Alec himself, and didn't seem much older. He spoke with a voice like cotton candy: light and rich and thin. He cradled Alec close as they walked, growling obscenities into his ear, and Alec thought he might just enjoy himself with someone who _wasn't_ Magnus at work for a change.

He led Alec into the hotel where Alec was already planning to go. He purchased the honeymoon suite for the night, easily lying to the clerk at the desk, throwing playful winks Alec's way every time the clerk checked something on his monitor. He kissed Alec like a starved man in the elevator grazing Alec's neck with teeth so as not to leave a mark. Alec reviewed his rules, and the man nodded keeping hypnotizing eye contact for each of them. And he attacked Alec with such stimulating ferver.

"You're mine tonight," he purred shrugging out of this expensive coat. He undid the buttons of his top, as he advanced on Alec backing him up against a wall. Alec panted a vague affirmative into his shoulder, and he rutted into his hip. He ripped the zipper of Alec's bomber jacket, shoving the sleeves down his arms and lifting Alec to let it fall to the floor. Alec barely took notice wrapping his legs around the guy's waist instead, and grabbing his face to kiss into him again. He moaned, moving one hand to rut up Alec's t-shirt, as he staggered back towards the bed. They tumbled a top it surprisingly gracefully. Alec barely broke the kiss for a breathy laugh. The guy dove back in to capture a draw of Alec's lips again, long and slow, before moving back and avesting them both of their remaining shirts and undershirts. Alec went for his lips again, but the man guided him to suck against his neck instead. He felt him pull what felt like a miniature hand sanitizer from his pocket when Alec ground his hips down into the man.

"Gideon," he moaned again, unbuckling each of their pants, and shoving off Alec's. Then he flipped them on the bed, tore off his own pants, and slid a generously lubed finger inside Alec's ass.

Alec yelped for the speed of it, but the man waited for him to adjust trailing butterfly kisses down his chest until Alec began to squirm. He worked Alec open to a second finger, and then a third as Alec writhed on him, whimpered and whined and bucked on him. Alec was ready to fuck him self on the man's fingers when he felt the tip of his cock poking his entrance... smearing precum as he lined himself up. Alec huffed a laugh and scooted back as best he could.

"No sock, no cock. Those were the rules you agreed to, pal."

The man scoffed some and crawled further on top of Alec.

"Don't worry," he said, chasing Alec's lips, "I put a "sock" on the door."

Alec pressed a hand against his chest.

"It's cleaner with a condom," Alec purred, running his lips along the man's collarbone, "for everyone: in every sense of the word." Of all Alec's rules, he'd never _ever_ allowed _anyone_ in his ass ungloved. He'd never fucked without a condom and that wasn't starting that night.

"Relax," the man hummed. He drew his hands back from where he was positioning his cock and guided Alec's hands above his head. Alec felt an all-consuming urge to pull away from him, but the man pinned his wrists with a strong, sinewy hand and pressed Alec into the mattress. Alec began to tense, as the man whispered in his ear, "I'll cum inside you. There'll be no clean up at all. Trust me; it'll feel fantastic!"

Before Alec could begin to protest, the man plunged into his rapidly tightening hole all the way to his base.

Alec screamed. Hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he gasped for breath. He wriggled against the gaping intrusion in his ass, trying desperately to twist free of the man. But his hand held fast to Alec's wrists, and moving was seriously worse than just staying still and adjusting to it. The guy was a bit wider than three fingers, and almost twice as long. Alec wept silently, when slowly the man began to rock back. He pulled the edge of Alec's drying, constricting hole and Alec swore if he kept at it he would tear Alec in half. He had to stop. Stop.

"Stop," Alec cried. The man paused. He kissed the corner of Alec's eyes, collecting the new tears that continued to form.

"You're alright, bud. You're just fine," he cooed, "Everything's going to be alright."

He poured more lube around Alec's hole. He slid back, applying the slippery substance as he went, until only his head remained dry. He wouldn't remove his head. Slowly, he began inching his way back into Alec.

Alec could remember Lorenzo. The way the twisted bitch would demand that he beg for him. Would instruct him to worship his mini dick. Alec remembered begging. He remembered praising that stupid dick, panting with his tongue out like a dog. He remembered the gentle, pleased look of Andrew's face when Alec would whimper just the way Lorenzo liked. Lorenzo never hit him hard, and he always prepped Alec. He'd draw him to the edge of an orgasm and hold him there until Alec was begging and pleading and panting for real.

This was nothing like that.

The man rocked back and forth inside Alec, praising him for his tight, hot hole. He was squeezing so well for the guy, he was so good! Nothing at all like how good he was for Magnus.

The first time Alec had pictured Magnus while with another client was during an almost endearingly sloppy blowjob. Now, Alec begged, silently, to be able to picture him in this asshole's place. The man rolled into him in a steady rhythm. He managed, after a few pointed thrusts, to find Alec's prostate. Alec warbled some unintelligible sound, as heat jolted through his whole body. He hoped the force would be enough to pull him away from this. But it wasn't. And Magnus's image wouldn't take his place. It couldn't. Because Alec had said no. And the man kept going.

* * *

He rolled into Alec's hips for what felt like hours. When Alec realized he couldn't draw Magnus to his mind – that he couldn't hide from this experience – he ran. He couldn't physically of course, but he closed his eyes, and imagined riding on a carousel. Every in-thrust of the man's hips became an up-cycle of his plastic horse. It was sharp and uncomfortable. Something kept pinching into his ass crack like the ride was shoving into him the most persistent wedgy. He tried to pull away from it occasionally, but for the most part it was manageable. Every once in a while Alec would lean forward a bit, pressing his cock just the right way into the plastic mane of the steed to send a bolt of pleasure through him. He tried to savor those moments which, fortunately occured more and more frequently as the ride sped up towards the end. Then finally the ride stopped.

The man's hips spluttered to a halt inside Alec. He felt himself fill with the man's warm seed, which was somehow more uncomfortable to think about than had the seed been searing hot. The man extracted himself slowly, placing kisses to Alec's shoulder.

Alec stood and shimmied back into his jeans. He tugged on his t-shirt and shrugged on his bomber jacket. Distantly, he heard the man ask where he was going: remind him he still had another half hour. Distantly he heard himself reply.

"Keep your change. I'll only charge you for the time I've given you." He groped blindly around the room, though it was decently lit and his eyes were blown wide open. He grabbed what he could find. His phone was dead which wasn't exactly unusual for a late hour; he grabbed his wallet. Then without another word, he stumbled from the suite and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you last time if I couldn't figure out a montage I'd skip right to the angst. Well. I couldn't figure out how to montage it, so instead you get a poorly defined time skip, and some soul crushing angst. I promise next time I'll write something nicer. It'll probably still be heavy, but it won't hurt quite so much.


	8. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec goes to the first place he feels comfortable. Magnus takes care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL! I CANNOT BREATHE! JESUS CHRIST THE SHIT I PUT ALEC THROUGH! Also! We get to see Magnus's point of view for a bit in this chapter! Yay!
> 
> CW: vomit.

Alec stumbled from the hotel. He could feel fluid squelching in his ass with every step he took, and when he reached the edge of the sidewalk he doubled over and puked. Surges of hot vomit spilled from his mouth, and with each one he imagined he rid himself of a rope of the stranger's cum. He leaned against a light post feeling the mid autumn frost prick his skin. He breathed deep for a few moments and tried to forget.

He dug his wallet from his pocket, relieved to find it was actually his, but sagged when he counted the contents of the bill fold. He'd lied when he told the guy he'd only take a half payment. As it turned out, in his haste he hadn't taken any payment. And he left his keys.

But he wasn't going back up there; not that night. He had twenty-seven dollars in his bill fold. There was nowhere he could turn up in the middle of the night in upper Manhatten. Izzy still lived with their parents while she looked for a roommate, and Jace was at the McGuire Air Force Base in New Jersey. Twenty-seven bucks would take him into Brooklyn, but he'd have to walk the last block or two to Magnus's loft. Still, it was his best bet without a live phone with which to call an Uber. And Magnus wouldn't ask too many questions.

* * *

"Why, Gideon," Alec heard Magnus saying before he even opened the door, "I do believe we've already... met..."

He stood in his doorway, wearing the exact same thing he'd worn a year ago when Alec came stumbling to the door at a more reasonable hour, cobbling together the world's worst apology. This time the words died on Magnus's lips as he took in the sight of Alec.

He must have looked a mess. Jeans sliding off his hips without a belt; pants soiled from where the man's seed leaked; vomit on his shirt collar; jacket askew with a ripped zipper; hair and lips and neck still tangled and bruised from the man's ministrations; eyes red-rimmed and dripping.

Alec didnt know when he'd started crying, only that he hadn't made a sound and he couldn't stop. When he spoke, the words cracked over a whisper.

"Magnus." And his knees gave out from under him.

* * *

There was only one person that would be knocking on Magnus's door at 2:40 a.m. He was a bit surprised; it wasn't a Monday, but he'd never complain about seeing Alec.

"Why, Gideon," he began, pulling back the heavy door. Alec was always skittish when someone might overhear. "I do believe we've already... met..."

He was much more than a bit skittish now. He stood hunched before Magnus's door: head whipping back and forth, as he dug his index finger into the space between his other and his thumb. His clothes hung rumpled around his frame, and when he finally met Magnus's eye his face was streaked with tears. His voice cracked as he said Magnus's name. Then his knees buckled and immediately, Magnus lunged to catch him. He clutched Magnus's robes, sinking his face into his shoulder, as he guided him inside.

"Gideon. Gideon what happened?"

He shook his head violently.

"Okay. Okay, you don't need to say anything right–"

"Alec," Alec gasped, "Alec, _Alexander_ , not Gideon. _please_ not Gideon."

Magnus nodded, holding Alec close and running gentle fingers through his hair. He chanced a gentle kiss to Alec's temple, and was rewarded when Alec's shoulders relaxed.

"Alexander, can you tell me what happened?"

Alec just shook for a beat or two, until Magnus decided to start inching them back towards the bedroom. Then he gasped like a man possessed.

"I'm sorry," he wailed, pulling his face up to meet Magnus, "I'm sorry! I don't know where he's been! I don't know who he's– I don't know anything! He wouldnt wear– I tried to– tried to stop him! I told him to stop! He didn't stop! Magnus! Magnus, I'm so sorry!"

"Hey, hey hey hey hey." Magnus muttered soft hushes, drawing Alec back in. "Who wouldn't stop?" He tried not to sound as cold – as dark – as he felt.

Alec shook his head again.

"I don't know, I don't know anything about him; he was just– just some client."

Magnus nodded again, running circles down Alec's back.

"And I left my keys there! But I can't go back. God! I'm so pathetic; I can't even go back for my keys–"

"No, Alexander, no! Look at me," he drew back Alec's face, holding it to guide his gaze. "You are not pathetic. You're scared, and you have every right to be. Do you understand me?"

He waited for Alec to nod.

"Okay. I'm going to take you to the bathroom now. I'm going to run a warm bath, and if you're okay with it, I'm going to get you cleaned up."

Alec paused for a long moment. Then:

"Okay."

"Good." Magnus offered a smile, and lost his breath when he received a flooded smile in return. Alec was an absolute wreck, and he still looked beautiful. Magnus led him to the bathroom and turned on the tub.

"May I help you out of your clothes?"

Alec nodded. Magnus carefully shrugged the old bomber jacket from Alec's shoulders. He pulled up his t-shirt and eased him out of his soiled jeans. The water ran in steady, heavy beats behind them. Magnus tried not to gasp when he saw Alec's thighs. Instead he found Alec's hopeless gaze. His hazel eyes were wide, and pleading. Magnus helped him out of his shoes and into the tub.

"May I touch you?"

Alec huffed.

"You've been touching me."

But Magnus was making very sure to limit skin to skin contact as much as humanly possible. He shook his head, holding his hands up and away from Alec.

"May I touch you?"

"I don't know." Alec's voice was almost inaudible over the water still filling the tub.

"Color system?"

He waited, and Alec nodded. Magnus filled a shower loofah with soap, scrubbed it together, then placed it at Alec's neck.

"Color."

"Green."

Magnus moved it across his chest, over each arm and down his back. He paused occasionally and asked for Alec's color, following behind the trail of suds with palm fulls of water to rinse. Eventually Alec's torso was clean. Magnus sat back, replenishing the soap in the loofah.

"I'd like to wash between your legs, and inside you, if I can. How do you feel about that?"

Alec was quiet for a long time. He glared into the bathwater, eyes flicking back and forth in some invisible battle. Magnus almost retracted the statement, but then Alec nodded, strong and resolute.

"Green," he said, making and keeping eye contact. Magnus knew better than to question that. He dipped the loofah into the water, and Alec opened his legs, lifting his hips to meet him. He dragged it gently along the inside of Alec's thighs, moving in big, slow circles, watching as the stranger's caked seed dissolved from Alec's body. When Alec's exterior was clean, Magnus leaned back again.

"I'd like to clean inside you. How do you feel about that?"

"Green." Alec didn't hesitate. Magnus left the bathroom and returned as quickly as he could with oil based lube. He coated his fingers in front of Alec and waited. A first opportunity to back out.

"Color?"

"Green."

Magnus reached his hand inside the tub and pressed against Alec's hole. Alec gasped. Magnus stopped.

"Color?"

"Yellow."

Magnus pulled his hand back, but Alec caught his wrist.

"No! Don't stop. I want you to do this. I don't want anything of him left inside me. I just. I just need a minute."

So Magnus waited. He pulled back to place more lube on his hand.

Alec said, "green," and Magnus continued.

He prodded gently into Alec and waited for him to adjust.

"Green."

And Magnus began. He inched his finger inside, pausing often to confirm Alec's comfort level. After a few minutes, he added a second finger and scissored Alec open slowly. He pulled back adding soap, and dove right back in. Again, he paused often, checking in. He scooped sudsy fingers inside Alec, coaxing water into his hole to flush the cum from his walls. His fingers brushed Alec's prostate. Alec jolted. Magnus froze.

"Color."

Alec gasped and trembled, shaking his head vigorously. Magnus waited until he caught his breath.

"Red."

And Magnus quickly and carefully extracted his hand. Alec began to sob. He buried his face in Magnus's shoulder, gasping apologies. Magnus combed his fingers through Alec's hair, hushing him and telling him again and again that he had nothing to be sorry for. This wasn't his fault, and had Alec not been clinging to him, Magnus might have actually committed a murder. As it were, Alec was clinging to him. And the bathwater was starting to cool.

"Alexander, darling," Magnus cooed, "We need to get you out of this tub. You'll catch a cold."

As if on cue, Alec shivered. He laughed weakly into Magnus's shoulder then pulled away.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

He stood, and Magnus stood with him, helping him out of the tub and into a big, fluffy bath towel. He stood close to Magnus and Magnus couldn't help it when his eyes fell to Alec's still swollen lips. White hot anger coursed through his veins. Alec could do what he wanted with his body, and he could do it with whomever he pleased, but Alec hadn't wanted this. Someone had touched him without his permission. Someone had hurt _his_ Alexander and if it was the last thing he did, Magnus would make that someone pay.

"Magnus," Alec whispered, clearing his throat, "may I spend the night?"

His eyes flashed back up to Alec's. He cupped Alec's face, running a thumb across his cheek.

"Of course, darling. Let's get you to bed."

He walked Alec into his room, Alec's fingers gripping the sleeve of his robe.

"I'm sorry for the mess," Alec croaked, "And for waking you up at God knows what hour."

"Alexander, you have done nothing wrong."

He brushed aside Alec's curls and again dared a kiss: this time to Alec's forehead.

"Goodnight, Alexander." He stood to leave, but Alec caught his wrist, and Magnus found a wild panic in his eyes.

"Stay with me?"

Magnus nodded slowly. He stood to close the bedroom door, and drew the curtains tight. Then he laid beside Alec. Alec didn't touch him, so he didn't touch Alec. Neither said a word for a long while, and eventually Alec's breathing evened out.

When it did, Magnus whispered, "I love you."

Then he followed Alec to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly thought Alec would say it first, but I shouldn't be surprised that Magnus beat him to it.
> 
> Alright! Wish me luck! I have no idea what to do next! That's not entirely true, but I don't know how I'm gonna do it!


	9. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus run into Maryse and feelings are drawn to the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write some of this in Alec's perspective, I swear. He just doesn't wanna talk right now, sorry. No chapter warnings this time, I don't think. Let me know if I should change that.

Maryse hadn't seen Alec in nearly four years. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been standing tall, his face all hard lines and solumn focus. He'd left that ridiculous boy toy, and Maryse had hoped his life would turn for the better. She could picture him standing in their living room, arms behind his back, shoulders squared in a perfect parade rest: a leftover habit from his ROTC days with Jace. She'd thought then that she had done the right thing pulling him out of ROTC. Jace was a soldier, but Alec would be a leader one day. Looking at him now, she didn't understand how she still believed that.

The last time Maryse saw Alec, he'd only come home to pack his bags, declaring that he had dropped out of NYU. Robert, of course, had been furious. He'd paid too much in tuition for Alec to up and quit halfway through. This was because of that stupid "boyfriend", wasn't it? And how could he do this to his mother; couldn't he see how disappointed she was, how heart broken? Robert was only half right. Maryse was terribly heartbroken. Watching her son pack his room, his shoulders strung as taut as the bowstring he slung over them. Catching the bite in the corner of his mouth, the wet sheen over his eyes. He didn't cry; he left too quickly to cry, but there was also a set determination in his face that told her worlds about how whatever Alec was leaving to do, he wanted it – wanted anything – more than the path she and Robert had laid out for him. For that, for taking that leap away from their lives and into his own, she could not have been more proud.

She also could not have been more terrified. And as she watched Alec from across the street, her heart sank to see she had been right. He didn't look emaciated, per se, and for that Maryse tried to feel relieved. But he was a great deal more sallow than he had been when he left NYU. He wore an old bomber jacket: a gift from Jace that had once belonged to his birth father. He'd given it to Alec when he left for basic training: something to protect Alec. The way it hunched in heaps over his shoulders like damaged armor, Maryse couldn't help but feel as though it hadn't done a very good job. The way Alec clung to it, covering himself behind it and the glittery man with an arm around him, she knew he was still hoping it would work.

He wore tight pants and a graphic tee: both of which looked as though they would be more at home on the man next to Alec, and with a crashing wave of sadness, Maryse realized the other man must be Alec's boyfriend. She wasn't particularly sad to find he had a boyfriend; she'd made her peace with that the first time Alec was absent from Thanksgiving. Robert had sworn at him, thrashed at him, and Maryse hadn't exactly done anything to stop him. But Robert had always had a quick temper, and she'd believed that Alec would come visit anyway.

The sadness she felt watching them was much more akin the that which she felt on that Thanksgiving. She watched the man lean his head on Alec's shoulder: rub his hand in big circles over Alec's back. He was comforting Alec, whose tired eyes rested like black smudges in his gaunt face, and the sadness in Maryse had everything to do with the fact that she didn't know why. She didn't know why Alec looked so exhausted, why he was wearing his boyfriend's clothes, why his jacket was ripped. She didn't care – hadn't for a long time – that Alec would have a boyfriend. She cursed the knowledge that she'd ever allowed herself to lose her son.

Maryse was in Brooklyn in the first place to meet a client for lunch. The man had come to her ripping and screaming about his bitch of a wife who sucked money from his bank like a marrow bone. She'd been a divorce lawyer for long enough to know that his wife was in more trouble with him than she'd ever be without him, and that she probably didn't realize it yet. So she took the man's case. And he really hated when people kept him waiting.

It was unprofessional. And rash. The streets of Brooklyn were crowded on an off day. It was irrational, and invasive, and brazen. And if Isabelle or Jace could see her now, neither one would ever let her live it down. But as the glittery man ushered Alec around the next block corner, Maryse found herself all but sprinting after them. As she rounded the corner after them, she watched them dip into a clinic in the middle of the block.

* * *

The door rang with an annoyingly pleasant, automated bell sound every time someone walked through it. And every damn time, Magnus looked up at it. He didn't mean to be so on edge, especially when Alec was hunched over next him: eyes glazed and fixed to the floor: constantly thirty seconds from a panic attack. He'd tried to check himself in, but Magnus had to guide him to an empty chair in the waiting area and finish for him when he nearly puked on the receptionist. But he couldn't help his own nerves much either. Coupled with the fact that anxiety was rolling off of Alec in waves next to him, Magnus had gotten the feeling ever since they crossed onto Franklin that they were being followed. When the fourth person after Alec and Magnus walked into the clinic, he figured out why.

The woman in the doorway was tall and full figured, but still inexplicably thin. She wore a wine red dress that hugged her body beneath a cropped, black blazer with matching black stiletto heels. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight braid which rested over her shoulder like a long, thick rope. Alec didn't look exactly like her. Her face was rounder: her cheekbones lower. Her eyes, though wide in their own right, were thinner than Alec's, as were her manicured eyebrows. But Alec had her nose and the same full lips. And the second she walked in the door, Magnus caught her gaze.

He moved as immediately, and as subtly as he possibly could to cover Alec from her line of sight. The last thing Alec needed right now was a confrontation with his mother. Alec had rarely spoken of his family, and when he had it was only ever stilted updates or off handed comments about his siblings. Because of that, and looking into the eyes of this severe woman with half of Alec's face, he had no reason to trust that Alec's relationship with his mother was at all amicable. Fortunately, the woman only stared at them for a long moment, before she seemed to find herself and take a seat in a chair across the room from them. She didn't bother to check in, but among the thrall churning around the busy clinic, no one seemed to notice her enough to kick her out either.

They sat in the tough pleather chairs at either end of the waiting area and stared at one another for almost forty minutes. Then a nurse came to collect Alec, and Magnus wouldn't let them leave him there.

* * *

As soon as Alec and his boyfriend went into the back of the clinic, Maryse pulled out her phone and called to cancel her meeting. He'd been livid, and had threatened for about the fifth time since she'd taken his case to fire her. She only told him something urgent arose with her son, which wasn't a lie, and that they'd reschedule soon. Then she called the office, warned her secretary about the man, and asked him to clear the rest of her day. Then she waited.

Ten or so minutes passed, and Alec came limping from the back rooms looking somehow more harrowed then he had when Maryse arrived. His eyes were locked to the floor, and his boyfriend was guiding him back into the busy Brooklyn streets. Neither one gave Maryse a second glance as they passed. She followed them back outside, and before she could talk herself out of it she called out:

"Alec!"

Both her son and his boyfriend froze on the sidewalk: Alec visibly wincing. Maryse began to stride toward them, but as she moved so did they. She began to scramble after them, but they were faster than she was in heels.

"Alec! Alec, wait! Please!"

This time, when they stopped, Alec drew himself to his full height for the first time all day. The boys turned and waited for her to catch up to them. When she had, Alec addressed her with a voice colder than ice.

"What do you want, Maryse?"

His voice croaked, and his dark eyes were rimmed red, puffy, and glassy. Tear tracks ribbed his face, yet with his chin tilted back, as he glared down at her, he still managed to look imposing. Maryse absently registered that it probably had something to do with the parade rest. Suddenly, she didn't know what to say. Or maybe it was actually that she'd never known what to say, and she'd only realized it at that moment, with Alec staring down his nose at her. He looked so broken, but so strong. All she wanted to do was hug him. He scoffed at her extended silence, but when he turned to leave again she caught his arm. He flinched, but he didn't pull away.

"I divorced Robert," she blurted realizing once she'd said it that it was as good a place as any to start. He turned to face her again, and his boyfriend stepped closer into his side.

"So?" He arched an eyebrow.

"I thought... you might like to know..." her voice trailed away from her and she found she couldn't hold Alec's gaze.

"Good for you," Alec said, and he almost turned away again.

"Alec, I'm sorry!"

"I don't care," he shot back almost before she finished. 

"I know." When the kids were smaller, they realized that the switch on the dining room wall would make the lights progressively brighter or dimmer as they slid the dial next to it. They would slide the switch rapidly and repeatedly between the two extremes until either she or Robert shouted at them to stop. Her voice felt like that now: jumping back and forth between loud and quiet. Regardless, it remained hopelessly desperate. "Ah-I also wanted you to know that you're welcome!"

"Excuse you?" He stretched the words like taffy.

"In my home! Whenever you like... Alec, I-"

"I already told you I'm not interested." He turned to leave one final time, and this time her words didn't stop him.

"D-do you still have my number? Is yours the same? Can I call you?"

"You'd know the answer to that if you bothered to try once in a while," he called back over his shoulder. She stumbled to keep pace with him again, trying not to stare at the hand Alec's boyfriend pressed gently into the small of his back.

"Thank you, young man!" Maryse called as they neared the end of the block. "Thank you, for taking care of my boy."

Alec's boyfriend spun to face her, as they waited for an opportunity to cross the street.

"I'm sorry that you're having such a difficult time right now," his smile was drawn tight across his face, pinching the corners of his monolid eyes, "but we have somewhere to be, and in case you really can't take the hint, Alec doesn't want to talk to you."

All pretence of pleasantry dropped from him, but somehow Maryse could only find respect for the young man in front of her. Respect and gratitude.

"Well, please," she asked while she still had his ear. "Please let Alec know that I love him."

The boy nodded with that plasticine smile again.

"Of course. Have a nice day."

* * *

As soon as they walked through the door of the loft, Alec collapsed into Magnus in tears. Magnus wrapped him tightly in his arms and kicked the door closed with a snap. They stood in the entryway for a drawn moment: Alec sobbing, and Magnus rubbing his back.

"It'll be alright," Magnus murmured. "Everything's going to be just fine."

Alec shook his head against Magnus's shoulder before pulling away, gasping in sharp breaths.

"I'm sorry. This is so unprofessional; I shouldn't have asked you to come. And all the shit with Maryse. I'm so sorry; I-"

"Hey," Magnus cooed, "I offered to come with you, and I'd do it all over again. I'm not just a client, Alec, I'm your friend. And this is what friends do for one another."

Alec shook his head again, sucking in a breath to collect himself.

"What you did for me last night. That goes beyond friendship. I can't– I can't keep asking you to do those things for me. I went too far, and I'm sorry."

Magnus suddenly couldn't look at Alec. He was trying to reinforce his walls again, but Magnus wasn't certain if what he was about to say would break them down, or accelerate the process. Still, the words pressed insistently at the back of his throat. He caught Alec's wrist just in case.

"You're right." He felt Alec stiffen, "but you can ask me to do anything for you. You haven't crossed any line I haven't already catapulted over." He took a deep breath reveling in the fact that Alec hadn't tried to run away yet. "I know that a while ago you said you weren't looking for a relationship, and if you still feel that way, I won't push you. But you have the right to know that..." He looked up to find Alec's mouth slightly agape, and forced his eyes higher to look into the furrow of Alec's brow. "Well, that I've fallen in love with you, Alexander. And like I said before, if you're still not ready, or if you don't return my feelings, just say the word and I'll give you all the space you need; just please don't cut me out of your life; I–"

Magnus found himself quite abruptly at a loss for words. Or thoughts, for that matter. His eyes fluttered shut and his hands fell to rest on Alec's hips as Alec smashed his lips into Magnus's. He cupped the sides of Magnus's face, devouring his mouth in hot, insistent kisses. He walked Magnus back against the wall, rolling his body against his before pulling away and pressing their foreheads together. His face was tracked in tears again and his voice cracked when he spoke.

"Magnus. I'm in love with you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. I don't know what this is. I've listened over it too many times for it to really make sense anymore, and there's still lots of shit to unpack at the end, but hey that just gives me more to right, write? 
> 
> Anyway, I'm losing my mind.


	10. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec gets catharsis. And Magnus gets a real look at what led Alec to the place he is today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story refuses to be written in Alec's perspective anymore, and I don't know how I feel about that.

_What now?_

The words had been swimming in Magnus's head since they got back to the apartment: since he confessed to Alec: since Alec reciprocated.

_Alec Reciprocated._

Magnus wasn't sure what shocked him more: that, or the fact that he'd managed to confess in the first place. Surely it was entirely inappropriate. Alec had always been a guarded person, and the whole run in with his mother right after a clinic appointment for every STI under the sun _and_ an HIV/AIDS test. So many _big_ little things all compounded by the really big thing of what that piece of shit client had done to him. He didn't need a goddamn confession right now! He didn't need to confess! Had he felt pressured? Had Magnus rushed things? No, that was a stupid question; of course Magnus had rushed things. They'd barely known each other a year, and still Magnus could think of a laundry list of facts – both trivial and foundational to Alec – that he still didn't know. Magnus didn't know about Alec's family; he didn't know about his childhood, or where he went to school; he didn't know about his upbringing, his degree, if he'd completed a degree, or even gone to college in the first place! He still didn't know what Alec's goals were, or any long-term aspirations; he'd never answered any of the questions Magnus had laid before him that second night – though Magnus had long ago decided that Alec's favorite color was black. In truth, Magnus didn't know anything about Alec.

And yet.

Alec whirled around the loft. He'd hung his coat on a peg by the door, right between Magnus's winter jacket and the umbrella stand wedged in the corner. He'd dropped his keys in the dish and was flurrying about the kitchen, pulling mugs from the shelves and starting a pot of coffee like he owned the place: like he lived there. Magnus knew that Alec took his street name from his middle name. He knew his full, given name was Alexander Gideon Lightwood. By extension, he knew that Alec's father was the New York governor Robert Lightwood. In theory, he could have not been. But 'Lightwood' was an exceedingly rare surname, and meeting Robert's apparently _ex_ -wife Maryse on the street that day really left little doubt in Magnus if any at all that Alec was once their son and heir. He knew Alec had a younger sister working in forensic pathology, and two younger brothers: one in the air force and the other graduating high school this year. He knew that made Alec feel old. He knew Alec drank decaffeinated coffee-flavored milk with three heaping teaspoons of sugar because evidently real coffee was against his religion. He knew the way his hair always stood up more on the left side of Alec's head, because he couldn't fall asleep on his right and the hair would never quite even itself out. 

So yeah, maybe Magnus didn't know who Alec had once been. And it was absolutely presumptuous to have confronted this fact so soon, especially when Alec had so much other shit going on. But Magnus knew, beyond the slightest sliver of a doubt, that he was utterly, madly in love with Alexander.

* * *

That still didn't answer his question of what came next. 

Alec returned to the doorway some ten minutes later, having turned on the smart TV queing up Neflix and fluffing up Magnus's favorite movie watching pillows and blankets, and carrying two steaming mugs of coffee: one black with a sugar and one abominable. Because it would seem that Alexander, his eyes still rubbed raw: cheeks flushed and stained with tear tracks, was the mobile member of their household while Magnus had become inexplicably paralysed. When Alec handed him his coffee mug, smirking over the rim of his own, the frantic fluttering seemed to die out of him and he finally seemed to notice that Magnus probably hadn't moved for a reason. He sipped his coffee flavored beverage and screwed Magnus with a twisted frown.

"Everything alright?"

Magnus couldn't resist the smirk that nicked his lips.

"Finally coming to the realization that that brown stuff in your mug is unseemly at best?"

A broad smile cut across his face: identical in every way to the one he wore when he kissed Magnus in the doorway. He said nothing: only lifted his mug again and pulled a long, slurpy swill from it.

"Ahhhhhhh," he sighed, looking a hell of a lot more smug than saited. Magnus couldn't decide if he wanted more to kiss him or hit him. "Come on!" He clapped Magnus's arm heading toward the couch, "Let's watch a movie."

"Alexander wait!" Magnus grabbed his wrist. "I know maybe you don't want to talk about most of what has happened today, but we should at least talk about us."

Alec frowned, brow furrowed, but the way his shoulders pinched and he crossed his arm not holding his coffee told Magnus he knew what was coming.

"What's there to talk about?” His tone was oddly final, but Magnus couldn't let this go. "I love you. I can't believe I'm actually able to say it but it's true. And somehow you love me too. It seems pretty simple to me."

But was it really? So what? They were in love. End of discussion? They could be in love and never speak again. They could be in love and remain good friends and colleagues. They could be in love and go there separate ways as occasional aquaintences. But really they couldn't do any of that, or at least... Magnus couldn't.

"Alexander." Magnus followed him to the couch where Alec promptly snuggled himself into the crook of Magnus's shoulder. His soft, black curls danced across Magnus's jawline: his liquid hazel eyes drifting up to meet him. Right then and there, Magnus half forgot what he was going to say. If Alec had leaned up to kiss him, he would have forgotten altogether. As it were, Alec turned his attention wordlessly to the TV: scrolling through various streaming services almost idly.

They never did this. They had never done this before. Alec had made them coffee on several occasions. He'd made breakfast a handful of times, and let Magnus return the favor once or twice. The most alarmingly domestic thing Alec had ever allowed Magnus to do for him at this point had occured the previous night. It had been frightfully intimate yet totally nonsexual, but Magnus would classify that more as an emergency than anything else.

Somehow still, this moment of pure, domestic bliss felt right. As though they'd been engaging in this gentle behaviour for months. As though they'd been close like this for longer than they had known each other. Magnus never wanted it to end. He almost didn't want to draw attention to it, for fear that it would inevitably break this unspoken bubble of serenity. But it was precisely because the bubble was unspoken that he knew he needed to pop it. He placed a kiss to the mop on Alec's head, running his fingers through that forest of curls.

"Alexander. I don't know why you don't want to solidify this," he murmured, "and I stand by what I said earlier: if you're not ready for a relationship I won't push you, but I want you. In many more ways than the sexual." Alec paused his scrolling, but said nothing, so Magnus continued. "I want your strength, and your fear. I want your laughter and your heartache. I want to know what you're running from – when you're ready – and I want to be the one you're always running to. Alexander, when I say I'm in love with you, I mean that I want to take care of you. I want to be with you."

Nothing happened for a long moment. Alec's shoulders had stiffened again around "fear" but he didn't try to run. Then he shut off the TV.

"When I was in my freshman year of college–"

"Alec, you don't have to tell me–"

"I want you to know."

* * *

Alec sat up next to Magnus and folded his knees to his chest. It felt tight: tighter even than it had when they'd run into Maryse outside the clinic. Tighter almost than when they'd been waiting to go back to test. But there was an edge to the tightness. It was a knot at the center of his sternum that had begun being pulled back when he'd first remembered his dream of the Institute. Now, he cleared his throat and gripped his legs, because something in him was about to snap.

"My freshman year of college, I met a sophomore by the name of Andrew Underhill. He was the first out guy that I had ever met, and he was pretty and... and nice to me. I was studying pre-law and hating my life, and he made me feel like I maybe wasn't so small, like I could be the master of my destiny. Back in those days, my father had laid out my entire life before me. I was going to inherit a sacred oath. I'd be the next great Lightwood. I'd burn my way through the ranks of corporate law: learn the ins and outs of economics on my way. I'd tuck some notable cases under my belt, then I'd dive into politics. His goal for me was the presidency.

Alec felt his mouth twist in a rueful smile.

"Y'see at that point, Robert was the perfect icon of the establishment. He was hatefully concervative and not-so-quietly power hungry. He represented everything "right" in the world, and I was supposed to champion his cause. He didn't realize I fundamentally represented everything he stood to fight against. At the time, I don't think I realized it either. But Underhill did. A-andrew did." His breath caught. "Anyway, Andrew was the walking personification of anti-establishment. He was too cool for conventions like Valentine's Day and monogamy and being straight. He was all about gay free love: the second coming of the sixties. He was charismatic, and laid back, and oddly compassionate. I thought I loved him. I thought he loved me.

"He was my first kiss. At eighteen. And at nineteen, he was my first time. Y'know, he didn't have sex with me for almost three months? The first time I brought it up – and I was the one to bring it up – he told me that I shouldn't barter my virginity so lightly. He said again and again that once you give something that important away, you can't take it back. He told me I was too special to be throwing away my virginity like a rag. Everytime I brought it up, he would say something like that. And everytime it made me more eager to give it up already. But somehow, I never noticed that he was stalling me. Somehow, I thought 'he's trying to take care of me. He's looking out for me.' After all, he was a seasoned veteran of the free love movement. I was just some stupid virgin. And he was right.

His voice cracked like an eggshell in his throat. He had to swallow down the shards of it before he could continue.

"I brought him home for Thanksgiving that year. He often brought up that I wasn't out to my family. Sometimes – many times, when I think about it – he would tie that to the list of reasons why we shouldn't have sex. He'd tell me that if I couldn't be my genuine self in front of my parents, I wasn't ready to lay myself bare before the world. When I came out that night, Robert told me that I either "forfeit my deviant tendencies" or he'd stop paying my NYU tuition. I couldn't fend for myself in college; I was a fucking trust fund kid. I tried to leave Andrew that night after he ushered me from my parents' house. He held me all the way back to campus in some form or another. He wouldn't hear of me leaving until we found a proper time to talk. He kept telling me how proud he was of me, and eventually how strong I was. When we got back to campus, he convinced me that NYU was its own little bubble: a separate world where I could be myself without fear of retribution. Afterall, if Izzy and Jace didn't tell my parents, how would they know?

"For a little while after... everything, I blamed Jace. Izzy figured out I was gay when we were in middle school, but to the best of my knowledge Jace found out when Robert did. He didn't say anything to me – didn't partake in Robert's meltdown – but he didn't seem terribly comfortable with the idea, and he didn't try to contact me for the rest of that winter break. I kept going with Andrew, and the first day of winter break he fucked me. He made love to me, and he did it again and again almost twice a day daily for a month. And then winter break was over. And when I went to my first class of the spring term, my professor said I wasn't on her roll. I went to the admissions office, and they said they had never received my spring tuition payment. They'd put a hold on my student account, and until it was cleared, I was barred from my classes. I spent the first two weeks of spring term scrambling for various forms of financial aid, scraping together whatever money I could find to try and lift the hold from my account. Around then, Andrew introduced me to Lorenzo Rey.

"Lorenzo was in the same year as Andrew. They were both poli-sci majors. Andrew said he was a friend. He was a friend who was hoping to join us from time to time in between the sheets. It kinda sucked. Lorenzo was a cocky, self-absorbed bastard with a god complex the size of Alaska, but what he over-compensated for with "personality" he made up for in master finger work. So I wasn't usually into it, but it felt good. And it was only every once in a while. Of course just like everything else with Underhill – with Andrew – that was just the start. Lorenzo gradually came over more often, and then suddenly half of Andrew's poli-sci year was lined up outside his dormroom. It was always just one guy at a time. And really, I'm exaggerating. There were only... two, three... like, six guys, but still.

Alec didn't realize he'd loosened his whole posture until he was hugging himself tightly again. It snapped him out of his story. The movent intentional enough to remind him he was actually telling all this to another human being. He glanced at Magnus and saw tears slipping down his face, but other than that he remained unmoved: unchanged. It was still almost more as though he was talking to a statue in Central Park. Like maybe it'd been raining and that was the water streaking lines down Magnus's round, bronze cheeks. Part of him wanted to stop: the same part that had him drawing his legs in close again. Another, smaller voice supplied dryly from the back of his mind that he'd made it this far. Might as well keep going.

"One day in – April? I guess – maybe late March – I caught a guy named Victor slipping Andrew some money after he'd spent the evening with me. I realized a lot of things when I saw that. I realized that Andrew had been helping me with tuition in subtle increments all semester. That he'd bought me my books and nice, small, but expensive gifts. He'd say things like 'I saw this and thought of you!' and 'Don't worry about it! You'll pay me back!' I noticed that the guys that came were only ever Andrew's friends, and that Andrew never participated in "the fun". I thought he was something like a voyeur: the he always got more enjoyment from the show: that this was somehow still a relationship activity. And when I caught Victor, I realized not only was I a whore, but I was an idiot too.

Alec shook his head, wiped his palms across his cheeks, and continued.

"I left Andrew after that. And actually it must've been early March, because suddenly I was struggling to pay my tuition again, and all the ups and downs with Andrew, not to mention..." Alec sighed and began to back track in his head, "I started the semester two weeks late. I was playing catch up from day one, then things with Andrew cut south _hard_ right before midterms, which threw me off like crazy. Like I said a second ago: I'd just given up my primary source of income, and I was starting to feel like the only thing I was good at was sex. There are a lot of days when I still feel like that.

"Anyway, my midterm grades came back before spring break and I went home to collect some shit that I knew I'd want to keep if and when my parents ever decided I wasn't allowed to come back. I still had to make ends meet. I'd moved in as Andrew's roommate at the start of sophomore year, so when I left him, I had to find a place to live. Jace and his roommate Simon made up a place for me on their floor, and that was when I knew it wasn't Jace who'd sold me out to Robert. I still don't know who did, but I actually don't think it was Underhill. He didn't love me, but he made clear in no uncertain terms after that Thanksgiving that he held neither the desire nor intention of ever speaking to my father again.

"So to tally up real quick: I was behind in my classes, fresh broken from my first ever "romantic" relationship; my midterms were abysmal; I was homeless, jobless, penniless; and to top it all off, I missed having sex." He looked back to Magnus and shrugged. "So I took to the streets, dropped out of school, and ended up here. And somewhere along the lines, I guess I promised myself that I'd never let something like that happen to me again." 

He let his arms drop, and his legs followed with them until he was seated cross-legged on Magnus's couch. He reached out for Magnus's hand, both with his own and his gaze. He looked there when he spoke again. 

"It probably wasn't long after I promised not to let myself get hurt that I puzzled out a definition which included falling in love. I guess I figured that if I didn't let anyone get close to me then no one could harm me again." He took a deep breath, gripping Magnus's hand tightly and forcing himself to find Magnus's eyes. "But I let you in a year ago. I didn't want to at the time, but I couldn't help it. You were persistent, and a little bit cocky, but you gave me my space, and you're constantly giving me my time." Alec choked on his words as fresh tears began to burn his throat. "And you're brilliant, and compassionate, and patient, and God, Magnus, you're a saint!" He gulped in a breath. "And I've been stacking up feelings for you since the first night you touched me." His voice felt like molasses in his throat. "And you said you loved me too, and Jesus! Magnus, I haven't ever been this... happy – this... at home – in my entire life!"

He squeezed Magnus's hand again, and suddenly he was wrapped in the bone-crushing certainty of Magnus's arms. He buried his face in Magnus's shoulder, and just like too many times before now, he cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this chapter is basically just me calling myself out for not knowing what to write and for providing too few details elsewhere. I hope you enjoyed this recap episode. Bonus: This also happens to be _the longest chapter yet._ Don't expect this generous treatment going forward.


	11. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec takes a step. Maryse gets a taste of closure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Backstory: because apparently my forward story is broken!
> 
> CW: evil terrible slurs for gay and transgender individuals. Also just the trigger that is alt-right politics.

When Alec blinked awake, he found himself nestled in the crook of Magnus's arm, laid out on the couch with the low chittering of a sitcom blending into the ever present bustle of traffic outside. The sky outside the French doors leading to Magnus's balcony was that dull, bruised maroon color only achievable by the light pollution in New York City. Magnus was dragging lazy lines up and down Alec's arm, and a single word settled into the center of Alec's being.

_Home._

For the first time in his life, he felt at home. He snuggled deeper into Magnus, and felt a chuckle rumble in Magnus's chest.

"Morning, sleepy head."

"Morning," he mumbled into Magnus's side. Magnus kissed the top of his head.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Fine," Alec sighed through a yawn. He stretched long and tight, and slacked back against Magnus finding his eyes. They swirled like black coffee: the harsh blue light of the TV sapping away all the undertones of gold. Alec watched them shimmer: tipped with mirth like the corner of his lips, but an unusual sadness rested behind them. "What's wrong?"

"What would be wrong?" Magnus's lips twisted into a quizzical little smirk, and he cocked his head to the side.

"You tell me. You're eyes are sad."

"I'm not sad." But he bit his lip: eyes flicking from Alec's. "I think... You should call your mother."

"Why?"

Magnus's gaze began flitting around the room.

"She just– she seemed very distraught earlier."

"Good for her." Alec rolled his eyes, snuggling deeper into Magnus.

"Alexander–"

"What." He'd said it sharper than he'd meant to.

"You're not being very fair."

"In what way am I not being fair, Magnus? I did everything I could to be a perfect son for her and my father. I kept my grades higher than anyone else's; I was valedictorian. I started NYU – like my dad – pre-law on a fast track to Columbia. I was going to settle down with some beautiful, ambitious, young, blonde woman, start a career in law, pop out some pristine little grand kids and become the next president of the United States! Just like he wanted! Jesus, Mags we just talked–"

"It's sounds more to me like your angry at your father."

The fight that had been brewing in Alec's chest as he spoke died out of him. He'd begun sitting up straighter, turning to look Magnus properly in the face. He'd raised a finger to wag at Magnus. He dropped it, feeling a kind of artificial cold dance across his skin: like the sharp sting of an a/c unit on a tepid spring day.

That was true enough, he supposed. Robert was first and foremost a jackass. In fact, in Alec's prepackaged presidential life, Robert was the Jackass in Chief. But still.

Alec fell back against Magnus. His thoughts felt bigger than he was, so he took a deep breath and began picking at Magnus's rings.

"She didn't do much to stop him."

When Alec was really little, his parents would yell at the TV. They'd hold dinner parties – small gatherings mostly; buffet style with barbaque food – where a cluster of Roberts most loyal supporters would gather around, turn on the news, and debate over top of the reporting about all the ways to make the world a better place. They talked about how illegal immigrants were encroaching on the land in which we worked so hard to live. They talked about how the poor lazily abused the government systems created to help them and stabilize the economy. They talked about the horrible, irresponsible sluts who got pregnant as teenagers and wanted to go out and kill their own babies. They talked about fags and trannies: perverts who abducted small children from public restrooms to rape and brainwash into being like them. Alec had believed every word of it, too, until he was about twelve.

A lot of things changed when he was twelve. He met a black boy named Jacob Brown with gangly limbs, a crooked smile, and a wicked sense of humor. He'd never been abducted by fags; he'd never been brainwashed. But he stopped talking to Jacob about as quickly as he'd started. He'd started archery, too. It was his parents' compromise, because his mother thought he was too young to learn how to shoot a gun. That was the first time Alec could remember where his parents were yelling _at_ each other not _with_ each other. When Alec really thought about it, it was the last, too. But his mother had become quiet then. After the archery decision, she rarely – if ever – spoke out against Robert again.

She became mousy, all of a sudden, and Alec realized that she'd probably figured it out. Izzy was smart enough to have seen through him, and she certainly didn't get her brains from Robert. It infuriated Alec. She could spend _years_ hollering her life away about how terrible and wrong the world was when everyone wasn't straight, and white, and cis, and rich. But the moment she realized she was talking about her own son, she couldn't holler against it. Fuck her! Fuck her and Robert and every asshole who ever thought they were better than him!

Magnus stood up from the couch. He turned off the TV, flicked on the lamp next to the couch, and dipped into the kitchen. Alec watched him move. He looked lithe and willowy, but Alec knew better than to think him weak. He was shorter than Alec, but rather tall in his own right. The first time Alec notice their height difference, it had seemed so vast. But Magnus was probably at least six feet tall. He stalked like a jungle cat, wiry muscles corded under his bronze skin. His shoulders were boxy and broad, but every other feature was narrow. He looked like a lioness, and Alec wanted him to pounce.

When he returned from the kitchen, he was carrying two wine glasses and Alec's phone. Alec shifted to make room for him and took one of the glasses.

"You know I'm not one much for wine," he admonished, mostly just to have something to say. Magnus smirked.

"I know you like beer less, and you'll need something vaguely alcoholic while you do this." He held out Alec's phone again. It looked sort of like a taser. It was black and boxy, but also it seemed to Alec like something that probably wouldn't kill him, but that was guaranteed to hurt. A lot. He stared at it for a long moment before Magnus dropped it in his lap. Then he picked it up, and called his mother.

* * *

Maryse ended up going back to the office anyway trying to busy her mind away from the events of the afternoon. She'd been dramatically optimistic to clear her entire afternoon, but she had plenty of work to occupy if not her attention then her time at least. 

She'd been right to warn Jem about the client she stood up, though. She'd taken three steps into her office before he called her: railing about her lack of professionalism, and _tact_ like he had the right. He roared about how her son's "emergency" must not have been that bad, if she made it back to the office so soon! He threatened once again to fire her and besmirch her work ethic to any friends of his looking for a divorce! Like he could leave a Yelp review. Luckily, lawyers' business was measured through success: not word of mouth. By the time she got off the phone, the only thing keeping her from quitting his case on the spot was the thought of his wife.

Maryse had never met his wife before, but she knew her. She knew the struggle of being married to someone so self-possessed and angry as her client. She could picture a woman made cruel and bitter by years of fighting, desperately searching for any outlet she could find. She'd buy more than she needed of anything by a $50 - $100 margin just to incur his wrath. First it started as small disagreements: accidents. Men such as he, could never be pleased for long. It would escalate on his end. Every stray dollar became a deliberate affront to him. Maybe she'd shy away: fall quiet and subservient to his wrath in the face of her eldest child's existential crisis. Then she'd have lost that child, and every little move became a blistering war.

The woman in her mind looked wiry and feral: made of beautiful, dangerous, sharp angles marred dull and weary by years of disappointment. Her hazel eyes would be glazed but alert at all times...

Maryse shook herself, blinking back the tears that stung her throat. No. She wouldn't drop this man's case. In fact, she'd fight tooth and nail to get him away from his wife. If she so happened to lose some of his holdings to the opposition in the settlement negotiations, well... At least she'd have done something right.

_You'd know the answer to that if you bothered to try once in a while._

Bitter, raging sadness clung to her rib cage, as Alec's words swam behind her eyes. She bit the gnarled curl of her lip. That wasn't fair. He'd _known_ it wasn't fair, because she _had_ tried. That first Thanksgiving without him was a huge stepping stone for her, and by the end of the night she'd called the only number she'd had three times! Each time getting the same damn message.

_The number you have dialed is no longer in service._

She felt an unspeakable frustration claw up her throat. Fuck that! Izzy had stayed close to him – Thank God – so at least she knew he wasn't dead! But would she give Maryse _any_ form of contact with her son? No! She'd done everything she could think of short of hiring a private investigator! It was just like his boyfriend had said; he hadn't wanted to talk to her! She wasn't going to force him!

The sharp anger in her chest dove into her stomach and began kicking at her anxieties there. Maybe she should have done more. She could have hired a P.I.; she had the resources. Would he have forgiven her for that? It seemed like such a drastic measure when she knew from Isabelle that he was still alive and well. Her updates had always been vague, but they held such an air of finality. She guarded her secrets as closely as Maryse herself did, and Alec's health and happiness were her biggest secrets. It was painfully clear to Maryse that Izzy was protecting her brother, and if he'd needed protecting from Maryse then he wasn't going to appreciate her spying on him.

Jem knocked gently on her doorframe, and Maryse shook herself.

"Boss, I'm gonna head out. I left Tessa with a sick Will this morning, so I really need to go."

Rubbing delicately at the corner of her eye, she blinked to the clock in the corner of her laptop screen. Shit. She'd been starting at a blank email for the better part of two fucking hours. Wow. She needed a change of scenery if she had any hope of finishing anything tonight. And she needed a drink.

"Yeah – yes, of course. Go take care of your family; I – um. I'll head out, too."

She watched as he nodded slowly, eyes flicking to his watch. He shook his head quickly before bringing his eyes back to hers.

"Thanks," he said patting the doorframe. Then he was gone.

Maryse packed her own laptop bag, and locked up.

* * *

By the time Maryse arrived at the Hunter's Moon, she had resolved to finalize her two most pressing divorce agreements then get thoroughly drunk. Now, having completed her paperwork, she sat at the bar swirling the beer in her glass as condensation rolled between her fingers and into a puddle on the counter. She stared at the golden liquid as the dim rainbow lights in the bar tried to shift its color wondering why she couldn't just down the damn thing and move on. The bartender – some young thing about Izzy's age with light brown skin, dark eyes, and an unruly head of loose black curls – swiped a towel below Maryse's glass collecting the puddle and dragging it away. She gave Maryse a soft look.

"Rough day?" Her lips quirked, lilting her word into something teasing, but gentle. Maryse groaned. She place her glass back on the bar, willing her head not to follow it. "You look like you could use something stronger."

Maryse hummed noncommittally, "Don't I know it."

"What can I get for you?"

"I don't know," she sighed. She stared a while longer at the half a beer still lulling in her hand. "I came here fully intent on getting shit faced, but now that I'm here, I just can't bring myself to do it."

"Oh, well that's bad for business. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

Maryse huffed a laugh, but didn't say anything. After a moment, the bartender took over.

"Talk to me."

"Oh no." Maryse shook her head. "I don't want to dump this on you –"

"I'm a bartender," the woman interrupted with a flat look and an even flatter voice, "I had a psych degree within the first week."

That startled a full-belly laugh from Maryse. The woman nodded with a kind smirk.

"There we go. Now, tell me what's on your mind."

"I saw my son today," Maryse sighed.

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Well, I haven't seen or spoken to him in five years, so..."

The bartender sucked a wince through her teeth, and Maryse nodded.

"Yeah."

"Where'd you two meet up?"

"We didn't. He was leaving a clinic with his boyfriend."

"Ooooooh," the bartender hummed with a flirty little smirk. "What were they getting up to?"

Maryse wondered if under normal circumstances she would have discouraged the behavior. She was his mother; it wasn't her place to think about his sex life even if he'd been with a woman. She certainly never discussed such things with her own mother. Still...

"I wouldn't know. I didn't even know he had a boyfriend."

The woman seemed to halt for a moment.

"Did you... know he liked boys?"

"Yes. Alec came out to us a little over five years ago. His father told him to get over it; I didn't stop him. He dropped out of school; his father kicked him out; I didn't stop him. I saw him on the street today; he left me standing there, and I didn't stop him. Noticing a pattern yet?"

"I mean, you can't blame yourself for the fact that he dropped out and walked away from you. There has to be a reason you didn't say anything."

"Your too kind to an old woman." For the first time in an hour, Maryse took a pull of her beer. The bartender waited. "I didn't say anything because I'm a coward. When Alec came out, the only thought I had was that he was going to get himself killed." She took an unsteady breath. "I know, that the world isn't quite like that anymore, that my son isn't going to be beaten to death in the middle of Manhatten for kissing his boyfriend, but the world I grew up in? Christ! You have to understand; I was his age in Manhattan in the 80s! If the sheer force of violent hatred hadn't plowed him over, the AIDS epidemic absolutely would have! And I fell solidly on the _wrong_ side of history back then.

"I met his father at a rally against the "gay cancer". We were there. Yelling at AIDS demonstrators that sodomy was sin, that they deserved that _terrible_ fate." Tears gripped Maryse's voice. She coughed, and continued. "We shouted such evil things at those poor people: such horrible slurs. We tried to raise our kids that way. We taught them to believe that gay people abducted children from schools and malls and alleyways. Then my son, my _beautiful boy_ , had the courage to be himself: to come forward and tell us. And his father lashed out. And I said _nothing_." She spray the word like the venom it was on her tongue. "I couldn't stop my husband; I couldn't even tell my son I loved him." 

A sob racked her body, but she bit it down. She could completely loose her shit, but she wasn't doing it here. The bartender reached across, placed a gentle hand over her forearm, and squeezed.

"At least you regret it," she offered, and it sounded a lot weaker than she probably meant it to. Maryse huffed.

"Yeah," she murmured, "I'd hate me too."

"It sounds kinda like you do," the woman said withdrawing her hand and turning to grab a liquor bottle from the shelf. Maryse noticed for the first time that she'd been working the whole conversation. 

"Don't you?" Her voice sounded small even to her own ears. She cleared her throat.

"I can't say that to a paying customer," the woman said, and though her face was serious, and the conversation was grave, Maryse detected a hint of her previous teasing.

"Right. Well, I absolutely regret it. I regret everything I ever did to inflict the terrified look in his eye the night he came out to us. I have never felt heartbreak like I did when I saw his face."

The woman placed a shot glass before Maryse and filled it with the warm, smooth promise of amber, Irish whiskey.

"Well, I'm sure he doesn't hate you. You're his mother. Does he know your sorry?"

"He knows I'm pitiful. I don't think he wants to hear my excuses right now."

She slid the glass towards Maryse.

"Drink."

Maryse took the shot and downed it.

"I'm sure he doesn't. But I ran away from home when I was in my teens. My brother was a psychopath and my parents never believed me when I claimed he was torturing me. They could have stopped him, but he was their perfect angel. It's been eight years. And if I saw my mother today, I'd pitch a fit. But I'd want a hug too."

Maryse pulled out her wallet, but the girl held up a hand.

"You really needed that. 'S on the house."

"I still have to pay you for the beer."

The woman shrugged.

"You ordered, like, _the_ cheepest beer we have on tap."

"What's your name?"

"Maia –"

"Maia, let me pay you!"

Maia held up her hands in surrender.

"Fine," she said stepping back towards the register for the check. "But only for the beer. I'll be right back."

She dipped away before Maryse could protest. She came back with a check, and Maryse gave her a card to run.

"You've tried calling him?"

"He changed his number."

She walked off to run the card, but called over her shoulder, "Have you changed yours?"

"No," Maryse called back. She nodded sagely, as she returned.

"He'll call you," she promised, slapping the card heavily on the counter as if to dispell the tension lingering around the conversation. Then: "sign here."

Maryse signed the check and hated that her voice still cracked as she asked, "how can you be sure?"

"I can't." Maia shrugged, taking the check. "But it's what I'd do."

Maryse waited until Maia walked away to pocket her card and place a $100 bill under the check and her half full beer. As she left the bar, her phone rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD THIS WAS LIKE PULLING TEETH!! I'm so sorry if the writing quality goes down from here; I've lost the story, but I'm determined to push through until I find it again. Please stick with me! It means the world to me to know that you all are enjoying what I'm writing! 
> 
> Also, drop a comment! I always love hearing from you guys!


	12. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec takes an important first step. Magnus and Alec try to wind down from the week and are met with aa expectable, if unwanted, consequence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very short compared to what I've posted most recently, and I'm very sorry for that. This'll sound pretty stupid, but we've had _so much_ angst in this story, and I really just wanted to write something fluffy, but like... apparently I stuck at fluff, because it took my a month and a half and _there's still angst in this_. Thanks to anyone and everyone who's showing up for this. I swear going back and rereading you're comments is like 75% of the reason I was able to add anything on to this.
> 
> Y'all I miss you! And I make no promises about finishing this quickly, but I will finish this. It's more powerful, and interesting, and poignant than I've been giving myself credit for, and I hope you're as invested as I am in seeing it completed. Thanks again for all the love and support; I really couldn't do this without it.
> 
> CW: Visceral depictions of a panic attack.

The phone rang three times before Maryse picked it up, and Alec didn't realize he could work himself up so quickly. Each ring before she answered saw Alec bickering with Magnus, hoping he'd be allowed to hang up. Magnus just kept staring at him: one immaculate eyebrow arched.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded tinny over the phone, but Alec almost felt like that wasn't why it was cracking. She sniffed, and Alec froze. "Alec?" She sounded so hopeful, but Alec couldn't think of anything to say. "Mijo, si eres tú, te amo."

Tears pricked at the corners of Alec's eyes and scraped down his throat.

"Mamá, aún no estoy listo para hablar contigo."

"O-okay." Her voice sounded as heavy as his felt. "Um, okay, then... Why'd you call, baby?"

Alec sucked in a breath.

"I remembered, once we got back to the apartment, that, um, t-that when Dad, ah. W-when you guys cut me off, I had to get a new number, so."

It took a long moment for Maryse to respond.

"...R-right. Makes sense."

"Okay, so now you have my number."

"I tried to call."

"What?"

"I. I tried to call you. The first year you missed Thanksgiving. I knew you'd changed your number. I don't know why I asked toda–"

"Mom, I really don't want to do this right now. You have my number. I gotta go."

Alec hung up.

Magnus placed his strong, steady hands over Alec's, and Alec realized his had been shaking. His throat felt scratched raw. He blinked hard a few times.

"Fuck," he hissed: a breath that tumbled into a short, loose laugh. He took a deep breath and heard Magnus laugh a little in kind. He glared half heartedly, and Magnus only laughed harder. "Do you always have to make me cry?"

Magnus bit the smirk growing across his lips and nodded. He leaned in until his lips were centimeters from Alec's own and waited there.

"Are you going to kiss me?"

"May I?"

Alec nodded, and Magnus stole a soft, slow kiss. Alec hummed into it before Magnus pulled away.

"I'm proud of you," Magnus murmured against his lips. He gently placed Alec's phone on the coffee table. "And I don't know about you, but I'm actually ready for bed this time."

Magnus neatly unfolded himself from the couch, stretching in long, wirey lines that Alec traced with his eyes longing somewhere in the back of his mind to follow suit with his tongue. Alec could practically hear Magnus smirk as he dropped his arms and Alec began to pout. Magnus tipped Alec's chin back, brushing his thumb idly across the stubble that had begun to collect there.

"See something you like," Magnus purred, and Alec felt his gaze go hazy. He licked his lips and leaned forward into Magnus, rucking up his shirt and trailing them up the smooth plains of his torso. Magnus shuttered and drew Alec up off the couch into his lips for a messy kiss. He tugged at the back of Alec's hair and the corners of his own clothes sticking too tightly to Alec's skin. Alec tumbled them around the couch and out of the living room, catching Magnus when he jumped into his arms. He walked them back to Magnus's room in wide, love-drunk arcs: bumping walls and side-tables like a walking white-cane. Never once did Alec allow Magnus's lips to escape his own.

He stumbled them into Magnus's room, spoiling them across his bed, and immediately climbing on top of him. He continuously attacked Magnus's lips as Magnus battled them free of their clothing. He rolled Alec beneath him and pinned Alec's arms above his head. They'd done that dozen – maybe _hundreds_ – of times. Alec froze.

 _This was Magnus. This was_ Magnus. _This was nothing like the other day!_

Magnus continued to assault Alec's lips for a moment before he processed that Alec's had gone still beneath his own.

"Alexander?"

And Alec felt some tension start to drain as he heard his name fall from the lips of the man he loved. He _loved_ this man. _He loved this man._

A low ringing collected in his eardrums.

"Alexander, what's wrong?" Magnus voice sounded farther away now: too far for Magnus to have been able to move so quickly. "... Alexander... "

* * *

When the ringing faded, and his vision cleared, Alec found himself curled in a ball at the center of Magnus's bed. Magnus was perched at the foot with his hands folded neatly in his lap. He was staring an unfocused gaze in Alec's general direction and breathing big, steady breaths that Alec noticed quickly he had taken to mimicking. He blinked hard a few times and gulped down some of those breaths to try and regain some composure.

When Magnus noticed Alec moving, he smiled soft and sad.

"There you are."

Alec crawled across the bed and looped his arms around Magnus.

"Right. Sorry." He offered Magnus a sheepish grin, ignoring the tears now perminantly staining his face. "I'm back. I'm ready."

He buried his face into Magnus's neck and started drawing kisses across Magnus's jaw. Magnus drew his arms around Alec, but made no move to resume their heady activities.

"No, you're not."

Alec pulled back.

"Of course I am. That was just a road block; I'll get over it. Come on." He dove back towards Magnus, but Magnus brought up an arm: cradling Alec's face, but barring his advance as well.

"Alec," he begged, "What happened to you was devastating, and it happened _yesterday_. You don't have to "get over it" right away. In fact, if you never "get over it" that's perfectly okay. I'm not going anywhere."

Alec scoffed ignoring the burn in his throat and the sting in his eyes.

"Magnus, that's ridiculous. I'm a prostitute; I have to move past this. It's all an occupational hazard anyway." Alec tried to pull away, but Magnus brought his other hand to cradle Alec's face, and he melted. Magnus leaned in and placed a kiss to the tip of Alec's nose, then one to each cheek, then over each eye and finally against his forehead. He murmured into it.

"We'll talk about all this tomorrow," he promised, shifting them both and tucking them up under Magnus's warm, down comforter.

Alec wanted to protest, but seven types of exhaustion crashed over him: threatening to swallow him whole.

"Goodnight," Magnus whispered, "I love you."

Alec barely managed to whisper, "I love you, too," before sleep dragged him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No! Y'know what, fuck that! I'm not giving up on this! I've made it too far; there are too many people counting on this to continue! Updates will be few and far between because I'm nothing if not a terribly inconsistent flake, but this isn't over yet! Stick with me and we'll see it through to the end! You have my word!


End file.
